My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 159

Chapter 159:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Earlier that morning, he’d arrived on set to find out she was ill. Unable to focus, he had fumbled through takes he would usually perfect in one shot. By lunchtime, he hadn’t eaten himself but had rushed to pack something light and nourishing for her.

She stretched, intending to open the door, but a glance in the mirror stopped her cold. Her face—once delicately sculpted—was swollen, the faint imprint of a slap still visible. It felt like an emblem of humiliation, and the thought of Asher seeing her this way made her chest tighten.

Her fingers hovered over the blanket before she retreated, pulling it back over herself. Instead, she sent him a quick message: “I’m fine, just weak and not up for seeing anyone. You should head back.”

Outside, Asher frowned at the reply. The curt tone only made him worry more.

He stared at the door, debating whether to insist, when a voice broke his concentration.

He turned to see Beverly at the top of the stairs, her cheeks flushed from the climb. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her jacket sleeves haphazardly rolled up, and walked over to him.

“You’re just in time!” he exclaimed, relief softening his features. “I brought lunch for Carrie, but she says she’s too weak to get up. Can you take it in for me?”

Beverly hesitated, a faint blush rising on her cheeks before she nodded. “Sure.”

Asher handed her the bag with a grateful smile before heading back to his room, his mood visibly lighter.

gαℓησν𝒆ℓs․com has your next chapter

Beverly steadied herself and knocked softly. “Carrie, it’s Beverly.”

Before the door could open, Oliver appeared from the opposite direction, carrying several bags.

Beverly greeted him with a smile. “You’re Mr. Norris’s assistant, right?”

“That’s correct. Oliver Brooks,” he replied, nodding politely.

“I’m Beverly Estrada.” She smiled awkwardly, recalling the whispers from the night before.

Carrie opened the door just as the two exchanged introductions. Her eyes flicked between them, taking in the scene.

Oliver, who had been Kristopher’s assistant for years, was like a shadow—barely noticeable. Now, under closer scrutiny, he appeared to be a scholarly, handsome man with clear features.

Beverly, on the other hand, had a strikingly bold appearance, her long hair tied neatly in a high ponytail, and sparkling eyes.

Beverly’s sharp, expressive features clashed with Oliver’s composed, scholarly aura.

Beverly held up the lunch bag Asher had given her, shaking it lightly. “Asher sent this for you.”

“This is from Mr. Norris, along with some ointment.” Oliver stepped forward, presenting his own bag.

Before Carrie could respond, he added with practiced precision, “The ointment was shipped overnight to reduce swelling quickly. Mr. Norris is concerned about your on-camera appearance. He cares deeply about your career.”

Oliver felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered Kristopher’s instructions to simply deliver the package without elaborating.

.

.

.