The cold water gave Ethan only a brief moment of clarity. It did nothing to soothe the strange, burning heat still raging inside him.

Isabella dropped to the floor, curling into herself. She buried her face in her arms, silent tears streaking her cheeks.

After a while, she lifted her head. Her gaze drifted toward the bed.

The sheets still held the warmth of his body. The air carried a faint, sweet, almost sickly scent.

A sudden idea made her jump to her feet. She moved quickly to the bed. Her hand reached out, touching the sheets. They were still warm. She remembered the unnatural heat of his skin when he held her. A terrible suspicion formed in her mind.

Had he been drugged?

The thought stunned her. Who would drug Ethan inside his own home? Could Sophia be behind it? That seemed impossible. They were a couple.

Why would Sophia need to drug him? It made no sense.

Her eyes flicked toward the bathroom door. She was torn. Part of her wanted to check on him. Another part was too afraid. His unpredictable state terrified her.

The silence from the bathroom stretched. Her concern began to outweigh her fear.

"Ethan?" Her knock on the door was soft. There was no answer. "Ethan!" she called out, louder this time. Still, only silence answered her.

Panic surged through her. She could wait no longer. She pushed the door open.

Ethan was slumped against the wet tiles, unconscious. The shower was still running, water cascading over him. Steam filled the room. Isabella gritted her teeth. She used all her strength to pull his heavy, limp body from the slick floor.

He was much heavier than she expected. Dragging him toward the bedroom was a difficult, exhausting struggle.

She finally managed to get him onto the bed. She stood there, breathing heavily, utterly drained. She quickly dried him off, her eyes fixed on his closed ones. Her brow was furrowed with deep worry.

He needed a doctor. Immediately.

She grabbed the phone on the bedside table. She dialed the number for the head butler. "Hello? This is Isabella Scott. I need a doctor. Please, send a doctor now." Her voice trembled with urgency.

"Understood, Miss Scott. I will arrange it immediately," the butler's calm, reassuring voice replied.

She hung up. She stayed seated on the edge of the bed, her anxiety palpable. She kept checking his forehead, her worry growing with each passing second.

In the room next door, Sophia was growing sleepy from waiting. She was dressed perfectly, every detail in place. But restlessness was setting in. Ethan still hadn't come. A sense of unease gripped her.

"Why hasn't he arrived yet?" she muttered to herself, applying another layer of lipstick in the mirror.

Suddenly, a knock came from the neighboring room.

Sophia got up and opened her door. Her heart jumped into her throat. She saw the butler about to enter Ethan's room. A doctor was with him.