By 10:00 AM the next morning, ICU Room 1 had been completely transformed into a sanctuary of high-end leisure.
Aria was finally free from the ugly prison of the hospital gown. Thanks to a dawn delivery run by Ken, she was now comfortably swathed in a plush, mint green silk pajama set covered in tiny, cartoonish pandas. Her rose-gold hair was swept up into a messy bun, secured in place by her silver acupuncture needles.
She had a hydrating, hyaluronic acid sheet mask plastered to her face. She was snacking on a bowl of perfectly sliced dragonfruit and mango with a tiny silver fork. And she was deeply engrossed in a toxic CEO romance on Webnovel on her iPad, profoundly enjoying the irony of reading about a fictional billionaire while her actual billionaire husband was at the office.
'He just bought her a private island because she said she hated everyone in the country,' Aria read the digital text, chewing a piece of mango. 'Isn't that a bit much?'
She was entirely at peace.
