Chapter 3: Fever, Family, and Going Viral

Halfway through filming, I suddenly caught a cold and fever.

The stress of the show finally caught up with me. I spent days in bed, shivering and miserable. The crew sent flowers and get-well cards, but it was Carter who never left my side.

I lay groggily in the lounge, my head aching like it would explode.

The world was a blur of colors and sounds. I drifted in and out of sleep, barely aware of anything beyond the pounding in my skull.

Someone was always by my side, never leaving.

Even in my feverish haze, I could feel his presence. He kept a cool cloth on my forehead, whispered words of comfort, and made sure I had everything I needed.

At first I thought it was Savannah, until I woke up at midnight looking for water and saw Carter asleep on the sofa.

He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes. I felt a pang of guilt—he should have been resting, not watching over me.

His hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled. Still, he looked impossibly handsome. I smiled, feeling a wave of affection wash over me.

I carefully covered him with a blanket. Carter slept lightly, opened his eyes, and pulled me into his arms.

He blinked awake, then smiled sleepily, tugging me closer. I melted into his embrace, grateful for his warmth.

He felt my forehead, then wrapped me in the blanket, afraid I’d catch cold again.

His touch was gentle, his concern obvious. I let myself relax, trusting him completely.

“Does your head still hurt?”

I shook my head, blushing for some reason.

His eyes softened, and he brushed a stray hair from my face. I felt my cheeks heat up, but I didn’t pull away.

“Hungry? Want some chicken soup?”

“Okay.”

Carter went to the kitchen and soon brought out a steaming bowl of soup.

The smell made my stomach rumble. I took the bowl, savoring every bite. It was simple, but delicious—comfort food at its finest.

My appetite came roaring back.

I finished the first bowl in record time, then sheepishly asked for seconds. Carter just laughed, refilling my bowl without a word.

After eating two bowls, I lay contentedly on the sofa.

I felt warm and safe, the ache in my head fading. I closed my eyes, letting the comfort of the moment wash over me.

“How is there still hot soup?”

I asked without thinking. Carter paused while tidying up, then smiled:

“I was worried you’d wake up hungry, so I kept it ready.”

His thoughtfulness made my heart flutter. I smiled, feeling a rush of affection for this man who cared so much.

I perked up and looked at him. Carter was cleaning in the kitchen, his tall figure like a safe harbor, making me feel at ease.

He moved with a quiet confidence, every gesture efficient and precise. I watched him, feeling a sense of peace settle over me.

“You made this yourself?”

“Yeah. Tell me what you like to eat. I’m not a great cook, but I’ll learn for you.”

Carter gently patted my hair. I looked up at him—even from this angle, he was unfairly good-looking.

I grinned, teasing him. "You’re a quick study. Maybe you’ll be a five-star chef by next year."

“Really? I don’t believe it, unless you show me...”

I suddenly got cheeky. Carter raised his eyebrows and bent down close to me.

He was inches from my face, his breath warm against my skin. I felt my heart race, but I forced myself to hold his gaze.

Staring at his handsome face so close, I nervously gripped the blanket.

My hands trembled, but I didn’t pull away. There was something intoxicating about being this close.

“Okay, how do you want me to prove it, Harper?”

I pretended to be calm, but my sweaty palms gave me away.

He smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort. I stuck my tongue out at him, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why is your face so hot again?”

Carter worriedly touched my face, but I pulled the blanket over my head.

I mumbled something unintelligible, hiding from his teasing smile. He laughed, the sound warm and affectionate.

Carter’s gentle laughter echoed in my ears, but I felt so embarrassed.

I peeked out from under the blanket, only to see him watching me with a fond smile. I ducked back down, cheeks burning.

“Alright, I won’t tease you. Go back to bed.”

I muffled an “mm” under the blanket, still not daring to show my face, not wanting him to see how red I was.

He scooped me up, cradling me in his arms. I let myself relax, trusting him completely.

The next second, I was lifted up. Carter gently carried me to the bedroom, tucked me in, and was gentle the whole time.

He smoothed the blankets around me, then pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. I smiled, feeling sleep tug at my eyelids.

“You should go rest too...”

I grabbed his hand and said softly.

He squeezed my hand, his eyes warm and reassuring. "I’ll be right outside. Call if you need anything."

I nodded, closed my eyes obediently, thinking I’d have a sweet dream tonight.

Sleep came easily, the memory of his touch lingering long after I drifted off.

When I woke up the next day, Savannah and a middle-aged woman were in the living room.

The apartment was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet baking in the oven. Savannah sat on the couch, chatting animatedly with the woman beside her.

The woman was elegant and graceful, well-maintained, still charming in her fifties.

She wore a tailored suit, her hair perfectly styled. There was an air of quiet authority about her—a woman used to getting her way.

It was obvious she was a great beauty when she was young.

Her features were striking, her eyes sharp and kind. I felt a little intimidated, but Savannah’s smile put me at ease.

As soon as she saw me, she smiled and came over, holding my hand with concern:

“Harper, are you feeling better?”

Her voice was warm, motherly. I felt a lump form in my throat, overwhelmed by her kindness.

I was a bit confused, smiled and looked to Savannah for help.

Savannah grinned, squeezing my hand. "Don’t worry, Harper. Mom’s just here to fuss over you."

“Harper, this is my mom. She was so worried when she heard you were sick, she flew over early this morning to see you.”

I was stunned, letting Mrs. Rivers pull me to the sofa.

I sat down, feeling a little awkward. Mrs. Rivers patted my hand, her eyes full of genuine concern.

Seeing the table full of fruit and supplements, I blushed and said, “Hello, Mrs. Rivers. You really didn’t have to come all this way—it’s just a little cold, sorry for the trouble...”

She waved off my apology, insisting it was no trouble at all. "Family takes care of each other," she said, her smile gentle.

Mrs. Rivers held my hand. Now I knew why Carter was so good-looking—he took after his mom.

I caught Carter’s eye across the room, and he winked. I smiled, feeling a little more at home.

“Look at you, already lost weight, and you say it’s nothing. I made soup for you, try it.”

She handed me a bowl, the aroma rich and comforting. I took a tentative sip. Oh wow. Delicious.

The fragrant soup instantly made my mouth water. No wonder Carter cooks so well—with a mom like this, of course he’s good.

I finished the bowl, feeling a warmth spread through me. Mrs. Rivers beamed, clearly pleased.

“It’s delicious, thank you, Mrs. Rivers.”

“Glad you like it. After the show ends, come to my house, I’ll cook for you every day...”

Savannah was overjoyed, while I wished I could bury my face in the bowl, just drinking soup, not daring to respond.

I mumbled a shy thank you, my cheeks burning. Savannah just grinned. She was loving this.

Just then, Carter came back. I looked at him like a lifeline.

He shot me a reassuring smile, then turned to his mom, ready to run interference.

“Mom, why are you here?”

“I’m here to see my daughter-in-law...”

After Mrs. Rivers said that, my face turned even redder. Carter saw I was uncomfortable and quickly made up an excuse for me to go wash up, saying the doctor would come later.

I nodded, smiled at Mrs. Rivers, and quickly went to the dressing room.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm my nerves. My mind raced, replaying every awkward moment.

Looking at my unwashed face in the mirror, my mind was a mess.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. This was just another challenge—one I could handle.

I don’t know what Carter and Mrs. Rivers talked about, but she left soon after.

Before leaving, she quietly called me over and gave me a gift box with a necklace inside.

It was delicate, understated—a family heirloom, she explained. I felt honored, and a little overwhelmed by the gesture.

Later, I found out it was the Rivers family’s heirloom for daughters-in-law.

The significance wasn’t lost on me. I tucked the necklace into my pocket, promising myself I’d treasure it always.

But that day, I trended online because a paparazzo photographed Mrs. Rivers visiting me at the hotel.

The internet exploded with speculation. I tried to ignore it, but my phone buzzed nonstop with notifications.

Soon, people dug up the Rivers family’s background. It was shocking.

They were old money—real old money. The kind of family you read about in glossy magazines, not reality show scandals.

The Rivers were one of the top wealthy families. The hashtag “rich lady visits daughter-in-law on set” trended for days. And just like that, my relationship with Carter was confirmed.

Because of this, the rumor that I drove away Mason on purpose started circulating again.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. People would believe anything, as long as it made for a good story.

Actually, Mason’s previous behavior had tanked his own reputation, and the negative impact was huge.

He’d burned too many bridges, and now he was paying the price. I almost felt sorry for him—almost.

His agency tried to clear his name by making me the scapegoat.

It was classic damage control. I braced myself for the backlash, determined not to let it get to me.

But enough was enough.

I decided then and there—I wasn’t going to let anyone else write my story. Not anymore.

Mrs. Rivers is known for being decisive. With just a word, Mason almost vanished from showbiz.

She made a few calls, and just like that, Mason was out. Honestly, I almost felt bad for him. Almost.

In the end, he posted an apology late at night, explaining and formally apologizing to me, finally putting the matter to rest.

His words were sincere, and I could tell he meant it. I accepted his apology, ready to move on.