the two-faced Adopted Girl Who Melted CEO's Ice-Cold Heart Chapter 613: She Thought Ignatius Leclair Had a Crush on Her

The man stood tall and imposing at the doorway, his deep, narrow phoenix eyes locking onto hers for a mont before he spoke in a low voice: "It’s ti to take your dicine."

After speaking, Ignatius Leclair walked over, grabbed the dicine, poured water, and handed it to her. His movents were fluid and graceful, exuding an inherent elegance and natural ease.

Delphine was montarily startled, gazing at the beautiful, slender hand extended toward her and the pills resting on its palm. She lifted her eyes and quietly said, "I can do it myself."

The man remained silent, neither withdrawing his hand nor responding. His phoenix eyes only deepened further. Sure, she had hands and feet, but he wanted to feed her the dicine, let her drink the water—he wanted her to recover quickly, so he could do so much more for her.

"I don’t want Nicholas and Benjamin to keep worrying about you," the man said in his deep voice, a trace of indescribable hoarseness hanging in his tone.

Delphine didn’t doubt his words, assuming his gesture of lowering himself and acting magnanimously was for the sake of the children. She exhaled a slight sigh of relief, chastising herself for overthinking. Ignatius Leclair—a man who once regarded her with blatant coldness and disdain—how could soone like him harbor any affection for her? If not for Magnus Leclair, the two of them might never have crossed paths.

Delphine lowered her gaze, carefully reached out to take the dicine from his palm, making an effort not to touch him as she took the water cup.

Akin to neatly trimd kitten paws, her fingertips brushed his palm fleetingly, bringing a light itch and softness. Ignatius withdrew his hand, clasping the hand she had inadvertently touched behind his back, quietly watching as she frowned and struggled slightly to swallow the pills.

A trickle of water spilled from the cup, rolling down her slender, fair neck, skimming her beautiful collarbone, and continuing downward. He averted his gaze, his body tensing slightly.

Delphine set the cup aside, speaking softly: "I’ve finished taking the dicine. Mr. Leclair, you should go back and rest early. There are doctors and nurses here."

Ignatius responded indifferently with a hum, then stepped out of the room. He sat quietly on the sofa in the outer room, dealing with the accumulated work that recent events had delayed, until Cassius Turner entered, seated in a wheelchair.

Ignatius narrowed his eyes slightly, stood up, shoved the stack of docunts aside, and exited the ward. His expression was cold as he eyed Wilbur Turner, who had rushed over imdiately after leaving the ergency room.

"How’s Delphine?" Wilbur asked, having waited for the mbers of the Land Family to leave before arduously rising to sit in his wheelchair and co over.

"Better than you," Ignatius responded with a faint sneer. "Delphine’s misfortune is entirely thanks to Land Junior. In an environnt like that, any man with half a brain would know better than to send a woman out to find soone. Wilbur Turner, were you thinking at all?"

Cassius, severely injured and worried for Delphine, had dragged himself there only to be rcilessly berated by Ignatius. The sharp, cutting words—each loaded with truth—imdiately turned his face pale with sha. It was indeed his failure to protect Delphine.

"Failing to assess the situation properly is one thing. Taking a woman out only to leave both of you isolated without support is another. Ignoring your injuries and running off here to fish for pity and favor is yet another. Wilbur Turner, if I were you, I’d be too ashad to show my face for an entire month," Ignatius remarked with an unrelenting cold laugh.

"Why are your words so venomous?" Miss Turner, seeing her second brother reduced to such a humiliated state—far removed from his usual spirited deanor—spoke up indignantly. "Are you implying things would’ve turned out differently if you were there?"

Ignatius chuckled coldly and replied with deliberate ease, "Miss Turner, if I hadn’t been there, your brother would still be buried under that snow mountain."