Chapter 9 CHAPTER 9: HOW DOES HE KNOW?
VERONICA POV
“Drive,” the stranger orders the driver.
The car glides smoothly away from the curb. I twist in the seat, pressing my palm to the tinted glass.
Outside, Jason is shrinking in the distance, face flushed with confusion, hands shoved deep in his pockets as the space between us widens.
I turn to the man beside me.
“Sir…” My voice cracks a little. I point weakly toward the fading figure outside. “Why did he call you Dad?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, knowing smirk.
“Why didn’t you take the money, Kitten?”
I blink. That wasn’t the question I asked. Is he avoiding my questions purposely?
My chest tightens.
But Jason had told me more than once that he wouldn’t even recognize his adoptive father if he walked past him. It had been too many years.
“Veronica, when I ask you a question, I demand an immediate response.”
I blink. My chest tightens. “Why would you leave that kind of money for me? Do you really think that I gave you my body just for cash?”
“Seems you’ve already forgotten about your dad’s hospital bill,” he says calmly.
My eyes snap wide. “What?”
“You mentioned your dad has a brain tumor, didn’t you?” His voice stays quiet. “I left the cash on the table for the treatment.”
My throat feels tight. “Why didn’t you just… hand it to me?”
“Because you were sleeping so peacefully. And a little tipsy.” His gaze softens. “I figured a sweet, naive girl like you might disappear before sunrise. I’m not exactly a morning person.”
I nod slowly, still processing.
“But why would you even choose to pay for my dad’s hospital bill, you don’t even know me. I don’t know you either.”
“You didn’t know me that night either, but you trusted me enough to go raw.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Shh—” I dart a panicked glance toward the driver, then press my fingers lightly over his lips before I can think better of it.
He catches my wrist gently, not pulling my hand away, just holding it there for a second. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a matte-black wallet that matches everything else about him—the car, the watch, the quiet confidence.
“Here.”
He slides a sleek black card across the leather seat between us.
I stare at it, then at him. “What’s this?”
“Centurion card.” He says it simply, like it’s no big deal. “It’ll cover your father’s treatment. And anything else you need. Don’t worry about the limit.”
My stomach flips. “A what now?”
“Veronica.” His voice lowers. “Take the card. Right now. I’ll handle the rest on my end.”
I hesitate, fingers trembling as I pick it up.
My throat tightens.
“Thank you…” My voice comes out small, almost breathless. I drop my gaze to my lap, fingers twisting together as the words slowly drift out. “I really wasn’t expecting this…”
A shy pause slips between us before I add softly, almost under my breath,
“Thank you… so much.”
His jaw tightens. “You don’t owe me gratitude.”
Then he looks away, eyes fixed on the highway.
I turn toward the window, trying to blink the blur away.
Only then do I realize we’re heading toward the hospital. I know for a fact I never mentioned which one Dad is in. So how does he know?
My pulse picks up. “How… how do you know about the hospital my dad is admitted to?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“And how did you find me at L’Atelier Bar?” I add, quieter now.
He finally glances at me — a slow, almost tender look that makes my heart stutter.
“I see more than you think, Veronica.”
A pause.
“Some things,” he says softly, “are easier to explain later.”
The car slows to a gentle stop outside the hospital building. He reaches over and brushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Go pay your dad’s bill and get some rest.”
His gentle touch reminds me of that night. I find myself staring at him… his full lips pressed in a thin line. His strong jawline looks tense.
I think about how his lips feel against mine. I lick my lips at the memory.
Instinctively, my fingers reach for the nape of my neck—the spot he kissed and left a mark
“If you’re done having wet dreams about me, you can get out now,” his voice cuts through my thoughts.
I blink a few times and look outside the window.
“Oh.” I breathe, mortified at being caught.
Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?
Embarrassed, I just want to get away from him as fast as possible.
I quickly unfasten my seatbelt, grab the purse where I placed the money Jason’s friend handed to me, and open the car door.
“Uh…i really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I say in a rush. “Thank you so much—for saving me from dying in the fire… and… for…” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Thank you for my dad’s hospital bill.”
“Veronica,” he calls my name with quiet authority.
“You should go in now. And don’t thank me again.”
I nod.
Stepping out of the car, the breeze hits me, making my short bar uniform flutter. I instinctively hold it down.
“Dammit… this stupid uniform never stops embarrassing me.”
I turn around. The car is already pulling onto the highway.
Why’s he suddenly being so cold to me? He wasn’t this way that night.
He also called me kitten in a sweet way. Are his emotions as unpredictable as mine?
But unpredictable isn’t the right word for me. I just let my feelings lead me… even when it makes me look like a doormat sometimes.
Come to think of it, I never even got to get his name.
I stand in front of the tall city hospital—SilverCross. I walk in and approach the receptionist.
“Good day, ma’am. I’m here to see my father.”
She glances at my uniform, then gives a small, disgusted look.
I glance down at myself, embarrassed.
“Can I see your hospital card?” she asks.
“Uh… I don’t have it with me. But I know all my dad’s information. I just forgot the card at home—my coming here was kind of sudden.”
“I’m sorry, madam. The hospital runs on a strict policy. I can’t let anyone in without the hospital-issued card.”
“I understand,” I cut in. “But my father is upstairs dying. Can you please call the family doctor? He knows me.”
“Madam… this is currently working hours. All doctors are with patients right now.”
I nod.
It’s painfully obvious she has no interest in helping me. I’ll just have to go home to get the card. The issue is I doubt if I’ll remember where I might have put the card — I can be a little careless sometimes. Besides, it’s been months since I last used it. Dad hasn’t been admitted in a long time, and I haven’t gathered the courage to see him since the whole tumor issue.
I’m about to step out when I hear my name from behind.
“Veronica.”
I turn around fast.
It’s the family doctor.
I smile at him. “Such perfect timing, sir.”
“She has my permission to see her father,” he tells the receptionist.
I follow him upstairs.
Dad looks smaller in the bed, tubes in his arm, monitors beeping soft and steady. I sit beside him, squeezing his fingers and whispering “sorry” under my breath, over and over, until a nurse taps my arm—visiting hours are strict.
I found the surgeon in a small consulting room. He’s flipping through scans.
“It’s growing faster than we thought,” he says without preamble. “Another week and we’d be having a different conversation.”
My stomach drops.
“We can operate in three days,” he adds. “Long case—eight, maybe ten hours. He’ll be in ICU afterward, at least three days if there are no complications.”
I reach for the card the stranger gave me and set it on the desk between us.
He glances at it, then at me—assessing—but doesn’t ask questions. He just scribbles something on the chart, slides the card into a small reader.
“We’ll verify funds and schedule — expect a call by end of day.”
FOUR WEEKS LATER
Three days later, the surgery happened. Long, exhausting, but successful. It’s been weeks since Dad got discharged, and everyone’s been treating him like royalty—extra pillows, his favorite meals, the works. We’re all just relieved he’s home and breathing easy again.
I’m wrapping up my online anatomy lecture, rubbing my eyes from staring at the screen too long, when Diana flops onto my bed with a dramatic bounce, phone already in hand.
I groan and roll my eyes. “What now, Di?”
She props herself on her elbows, grinning. “Girl, it’s been forever since we actually talked. You’ve been ghosting me hard lately. Spill—what’s going on with you? And seriously, how did you pull that kind of money together on your first day at the bar to cover Dad’s hospital bill in one go? He’d be gone if you hadn’t come through like that.”
I laugh, but it comes out forced. “Slow down, you’re hitting me with a million questions at once. Let me breathe.”
She doesn’t back off, just scoots closer. “Fine, but start with the money.”
“About the money, Di…”
“That’s kind of confidential.”
She snorts. “Oh no. Confidentiality between us now? Really?”
I lift one shoulder. “Maybe.”
Her grin turns sly. “I know who helped you with the bill anyway.”
I roll my eyes again. “Helped? Okay, fine. Who?”
“Xavier Cross. CEO of Apex Global Investments.”