Chapter 60
Aaron had the nagging feeling that lately, nothing was going his way. Not only did he fail to win over Josephine, but he kept running into obstacles in life too.
Take work, for instance. He'd screwed up so badly that even his grandfatherhad torn into him.
Then there was the night he went out drinking and ended up with bootleg liquor that nearly landed him in the ER.
But he'd gotten too used to living wild and carefree to give up his vices now. When friends called—even at midnight—he'd answer.
So when his invitation came through, he jumped in his car without a second thought. Halfway there, the engine sputtered and died. He slammed his foot against the door in frustration.
"Oh, you're gonna screw with me too?"
He didn't notice the shadow closing in from behind.
By the time his instincts screamed danger, it was too late. Something cracked against the back of his skull. Aaron's vision swam as strong hands dragged him into a nearby alley like a sack of garbage.
Face-down on the filthy pavement, he slurred out threats through the haze.
"Do you... know who I am? I'm a Getty... you touch me and..."
A boot slammed into his spine, grinding his face into the concrete until his features distorted and the words died in his throat.
"Mr. Aaron Getty. You're exactly who we're looking for."
Before Aaron could process what that meant, he heard the whistle of something cutting through air. White-hot agony exploded through his arm.
His scream tore through the night as bone snapped clean.
Cold sweat drenched his body. His vision went black.
Then—nothing.
When consciousness returned, he found himself staring at sterile hospital ceiling tiles.
Sylvia Getty stood beside his bed. "You're awake."
The slightest movement sent lightning bolts of pain through his arm. Seeing Sylvia only soured his mood further. "What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"
His mother had died years ago. Sylvia was the replacement wife.
"Trust me, I didn't want to come," Sylvia said coolly. "But your father insisted. He says you've clearly pissed off the wrong people. Without someone keeping tabs on you, next time they might finish the job."
Aaron fell silent.
Truth was, he was still shaken.
"So tell me," Sylvia pressed. "Who have you been antagonizing lately?"
"None of your business."
He wasn't fooled. This woman wasn't concerned—she was enjoying this. She'd come purely for the entertainment value.
Still, he'd give anything to know who'd ordered the hit.
His attackers had been ruthlessly efficient. No monologuing, no chance to ask questions. They'd simply gotten straight to breaking bones.
His mind circled back to one possibility. Could it have been... Gideon?
---
Josephine's recovery went quickly. After just two days, she was ready for discharge. Emma showed up with fruit, intending to help with checkout, but since someone else was handling the paperwork, she simply kept Josephine company instead.
"Josephine, I think Mr. Getty has a thing for you."
Josephine's brow furrowed. "Don't say things like that."
If word got out, it would cause chaos.
"No, seriously," Emma insisted. "Mr. Getty's been so good to you. Look—you're in the hospital, and he visits every single day. And you know how swamped he's been, right? That major client deal, plus everyone scrambling on the project, and yet—"
Josephine clapped a hand over Emma's mouth, her gaze shifting past her friend's shoulder.
"Mr. Getty."
Cedric picked up the bag sitting on the bed—filled with Josephine's clothes, all waiting to be taken home and washed—as naturally as if it were his own.
"Let's go."
Josephine shot Emma a warning look before heading for the door.
Emma peeled off to her own car once they were outside. Josephine slid into Cedric's vehicle, turning to him immediately. "I know I've set the project back these past few days. I'll make up the hours."
"Do I strike you as the type to ruthlessly exploit employees fresh out of sickbeds?"
Josephine touched the tip of her nose. "That's not what I meant. I just don't want to delay the work..."
Cedric was quiet for a moment before closing his laptop. "Don't worry. You'll have plenty of opportunities to repay me."
An ominous feeling crept over Josephine.
Was he planning to squeeze every ounce of work out of her going forward?
---
The Getty Manor.
The butler hurried into the study where David sat on the sofa. "Mr. Aaron Getty was attacked last night. His arm was injured. He's still at the hospital."
David looked up.
After years of service, the butler immediately understood the unspoken question. "The attackers were professionally trained. They struck fast and left no trace."
David's eyes narrowed to slits. "Investigate. Find out who Aaron's had conflicts with recently."
The butler hesitated.
"A while back, he had an altercation with Mrs. Josephine Getty."
"Bring her here. I'll question her myself."
"Yes, sir."
The butler turned and left, sighing inwardly.
Josephine was in trouble now.
---
Josephine never slept well in hospitals. Only at home could she truly rest. She'd been deep in sleep when her phone jolted her awake at dawn.
[Mrs. Josephine Getty, Mr. David Getty requests your presence at the Getty Manor today.]
It was the butler calling.
Josephine snapped fully awake. "Did Grandpa say what this is about?"
"You'll find out when you arrive."
The more vague the butler's tone, the deeper Josephine's unease grew. What could possibly make him sound so grave?
The Getty Manor.
The butler waited at the entrance. When Josephine arrived, his face remained carefully neutral. "Mrs. Josephine Getty, please follow me inside."
Josephine maintained her composure as she walked behind him.
But at the doorway, voices from inside reached her ears.
"It has to be Josephine getting revenge. She probably hired those thugs who beat Aaron half to death. Dad, you have to do right by Aaron."
Aaron's father, Dwayne Getty, had already visited his son at the hospital. The boy's arm had been shattered.
David said nothing.
Sylvia chimed in from the side, playing peacemaker. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Dad has always been fair. I'm sure he'll see that Aaron gets justice."
The words sounded conciliatory, but the effect was to back David into a corner where refusing would seem unjust.
David glanced at her.
Sylvia's heart jumped. She quickly lowered her head.
The butler announced, "Mr. David Getty, Mrs. Josephine Getty has arrived."
Josephine entered with measured steps. The moment she crossed the threshold, Dwayne and Sylvia's eyes locked onto her. David remained seated on the sofa.
"Do you know why I called you here today?"
Josephine considered briefly before answering. "No, I don't."
David studied her. "Yesterday, Aaron was beaten. Did you know anything about this?"
His aged eyes were full of probing suspicion.
Josephine replied calmly, "I'm only learning about it now."
"Yet as far as I'm aware, you're the only person he's had a recent conflict with."
"That doesn't mean I should have known about the attack."
Her response was neither humble nor arrogant—simply matter-of-fact.
Dwayne cut in. "Josephine, everyone knows you hold grudges. Anyone who crosses you pays for it. You once manipulated Gideon into breaking my son's leg. If we hadn't gotten him treatment immediately, Aaron might have been permanently disabled."
He'd never let go of that particular grievance.
"Now someone's broken his arm. The MO is identical to what happened before. You're telling me you had nothing to do with this?"
Josephine's tone remained even. "If you think Gideon was involved, you should ask him directly. Don't come to me. I've been in the hospital these past two days. I haven't even seen Gideon."
"Oh, you're good with words, I'll give you that. But who else would dare do something like this?"
Dwayne had disliked her for years. His son's broken leg still haunted him. "Dad, we can't let this continue. This time, she sicced Gideon on Aaron. What's next—those of us who displease her start getting attacked too?"
Sylvia nodded along. "At this rate, she won't even respect your authority anymore, Dad."
David's expression darkened. As patriarch, his word was law. "Go kneel in the family memorial hall. You'll stay there until you're ready to tell the truth."
Josephine's heart sank.
Blood really was thicker than water. She was an outsider. When conflict arose, David might appear impartial, but he'd always side with his own family in the end.
"I don't think that's appropriate."
A man's voice—cold and low—carried in from the doorway.