Chapter 641 Without Taylor, Samuel Is Nothing
The dinner ended without Samuel securing a single cent of investment.
Whoever was behind the relentless sell-off had no intention of letting him breathe.
Every day, massive blocks of SamZen Tech shares hit the market. Samuel kept buying them back himself, but the strain was starting to crush both the company and his personal accounts. And this was only the beginning.
It felt like being pinned down and beaten, with no way to strike back.
Every night was another round of dinners, negotiations, and desperate loan requests. In the end, he managed to secure funds at two percent above normal rates — only because he had mortgaged SamZen Tech's headquarters. The bank's director had agreed with visible reluctance.
After a week of this, Samuel had dropped weight. His face looked sharper, his eyes more hollow.
Late one night, drunk to the point of swaying, he stumbled into the restroom of an exclusive business club. After vomiting, he leaned against the tiled wall, lit a cigarette, and drew in the smoke like medicine.
Footsteps approached from outside.
The door swung open, and Samuel found himself staring at Avery — his former brother-in-law.
Avery's lips curled into a smirk. He strolled to the marble sink, turned on the gold faucet, and washed his hands with deliberate slowness. "Drunk already? Trouble closing deals? Why didn't you come to me, Samuel?"
Samuel leaned against the wall, watching him.
In the past, he would have snapped back instantly. But after the beating he had taken this week, he finally understood — his smooth rise in business had always been under the Montague Group's umbrella. SamZen Tech had been backed by the Montague family's name. That was why people listened.
A few cutting words from Avery were nothing now.
He stayed silent, which seemed to surprise Avery. Drying his hands, Avery turned, only for Samuel to ask quietly, "How's she doing with Julian?"
Avery's gaze darkened.
He sat in silence for a long moment before speaking, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument. "For now? Fine. But no matter how far Taylor and Julian go, she is never coming back to you. Samuel, I'm not saying Taylor was flawless — but she was a hundred times better than the woman you're with now. Choosing someone like her isn't just an insult to Taylor; it's an insult to the Montague family."
He stepped closer, voice low. "You chose this road. Crawl if you have to, but you finish it."
The words hit Samuel like a slap.
He pinched his cigarette between long fingers. "Don't worry, Avery. With or without the Montague family, SamZen Tech will survive — I'll make sure of it. And there's no turning back for me."
The words came out hard, but the last few tasted bitter in his mouth. Maybe to convince himself, he repeated, "I won't regret it."
Avery gave a cool nod. "Good. Then I'm reassured."
He left without another glance.
The soft click of the door closing felt like a weight dropping onto Samuel's chest. He took a shaky drag from his cigarette, letting the nicotine burn through his lungs until the pressure eased.
Downstairs, he slid into the back of his car.
The driver caught the smell of alcohol. "Home, Mr. Collins?"
Samuel loosened his tie and thought for a moment. "No. The hospital."
He hadn't had time for Zenobia lately. She had chosen to be with him, and he owed her something. On the way, he stopped at a shop, buying a plush toy for Thalassa and a bouquet for Zenobia.
Women liked flowers. It was a simple gesture.
Half an hour later, they pulled up in front of the Montague Group Hospital. It was 10:30 p.m.
When Samuel pushed open the door to the VIP children's ward, Zenobia wasn't there. Thalassa sat propped up in bed, playing with a stuffed animal, her face pale and small.
Samuel handed her the toy, voice gentle. "Where's your mom?"
Thalassa set the toy aside. "She said she was going to get me a drink. But she's been gone for hours. Mr. Collins, when is she coming back?"
Samuel didn't think much of it. He assumed Zenobia had been delayed, and with two nurses on duty, there was no cause for alarm. He explained that her mother was busy, and Thalassa seemed reassured.
Then he noticed her pants — soft cotton, pale pink, cute and comfortable. "Your mom bought you new pants?"
Thalassa shook her head. "Dr. Montague told the nurse to get them."
Samuel froze.
One nurse quickly explained, "A few days ago, Dr. Montague came by for an exam. She saw Thalassa's pants were too short, so she told us to buy two new pairs. She even said girls like pink."
Thalassa's voice was soft. "I like them."
Samuel's emotions tangled. He was glad Taylor was kind to Thalassa, but part of him wondered if it was because she truly no longer cared — enough to show kindness to Zenobia's child.
While he was lost in thought, Thalassa tugged at his sleeve. "Mr. Collins, are you thinking about Dr. Montague? Do you still like her?"
The question cut straight to the bone.
Without thinking, he said, "Dr. Montague and I are divorced."
"But you still like her."
She went back to her toy, refusing to say more.
Samuel stayed a few more minutes before leaving. At the door, a nurse smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Collins. Dr. Montague personally told us Thalassa will always be cared for."
His chest tightened. He nodded and walked out.
Downstairs, he glanced up at Taylor's office — the lights were still on.
She was still working?
He stood there for a long moment before deciding to go up. Even just to say thank you for looking after Thalassa. He knew it was not entirely appropriate — Avery's words from earlier still rang in his head.
Still, he told himself, this was just to thank her.
At her office door, he saw the light spilling from the gap. He had a dozen greetings ready in his mind. But when he pushed the door open, every one of them died.
Julian was inside.
They stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Taylor wasn't in her white coat — she wore a black fitted sweater and a dark plaid skirt. Her hair was tied back, showing the graceful line of her neck.
They were kissing.
Taylor was on tiptoe, her slim waist held gently by Julian's hand. Their kiss was slow, deep, and unhurried. When they broke just enough to breathe, she whispered, "Julian."
The color drained from Samuel's face.