Chapter 49: The Chairman’s Wife’s Forgiveness

Riley heard Cora’s strangled cry and felt her soul shoot straight out of her body.

Julian had asked her—personally—to keep an eye on Cora. And this is how she “kept an eye”? Pregnant woman. Moving car. Disaster.

She dumped their shopping bags and sprinted.

The elegant woman Cora had shoved to safety was still staring down at her phone, then up at the scene, horror breaking over her face. In rapid Korean she blurted, “I’m so sorry—oh my God, it’s you!”

Riley didn’t miss a beat, switching to Korean too. “Ma’am, she saved you. Please—can you get your car? We need a hospital now.”

“Yes—yes, of course!” The woman’s voice shook. “My car is right here.”

Cora clutched Riley’s sleeve, pain draining all the color from her face. “My stomach… Riley, my baby—please—”

“I’ve got you,” Riley said, forcing her voice steady. “You and the baby are going to be okay.”

The sedan screeched to the curb. They bundled Cora into the back, and the driver gunned it toward the nearest ER.

Cora vanished behind swinging doors. Only then did Riley yank out her phone and call Julian, breathless—relaying every second, exactly as it happened.

She ran to save someone. She didn’t just wander into traffic. Say it twice. Make sure he hears it.

On the other end, Julian didn’t ask a single question. Riley heard the scrape of a chair, the thud of a door, and then nothing but the line going dead.

Austin, the consummate shadow, was already moving. “Meeting is paused,” he announced to a roomful of executives, tone like frost. “Please wait for further notice.” Then he followed.

Julian drove like a blade, the city blurring. And what stunned him—what shook him—wasn’t the sudden fear for the child. It was that, for the first time, his first thought was Cora.

⸻

When he burst into the hospital room, Cora was pale on the bed, an IV taped to her arm. The elegant woman sat nearby, wringing her hands.

“Are you hurt?” Julian’s voice broke on the last word. He was all white-knuckle panic, every controlled line of him gone.

Cora flicked her gaze toward the chair beside her—look to your right, you idiot; look who that is.

Julian misunderstood completely. He bent over and pressed his ear to Cora’s belly, listening like a fool. After a beat he frowned. “He’s not moving.”

Riley turned away and pinched the bridge of her nose. So the legendary Mr. Watson has an idiot setting.

The woman cleared her throat.

Julian straightened—and went still. “Madam Chairwoman?” His composure slammed back into place, but not fast enough to hide the shock. “What… why are you—”

“She saved me,” the Chairman’s wife said softly, in careful English. “I looked at my phone at the curb like a fool. She pulled me away.” Her eyes shone. “I am so, so sorry.”

Julian hadn’t been prepared for that. He bowed his head slightly. “Please don’t blame yourself. My wife is stubbornly brave,” he said, and it wasn’t boast or bargaining chip; it was simple fact. “Are you certain you weren’t hurt? We can have you examined.”

The grace in his answer—a refusal to leverage what Cora had done—made the woman’s expression warm. She glanced at their still-linked hands. Approval flickered there, unmistakable.

“I’m all right,” she said. “You two should talk. If you need anything, anything at all—ask.” She stood, waved away Julian’s attempt to escort her, and let Austin see her out.

Riley finally exhaled. So that’s who Cora saved. She tucked her curiosity back where it belonged. Some doors you didn’t open.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” Julian said to Riley.

“Trust me, I’d rather not be on your blacklist,” she replied. “Call me if you need me.” She touched Cora’s shoulder, then slipped out.

The room quieted. Only the IV drip ticked softly.

Cora realized Julian was still holding her hand. She curled her fingers and eased free. He watched the movement, eyes going flat for a second.

“The Chairwoman—does this mean…” Cora began.

“Who told you to do something like that?” His voice cut across hers—too sharp.

She blinked. He’s angry? She’d risked it for their one chance—earned the woman’s gratitude with her own body. It could save the deal.

Then it landed: he wasn’t furious at the politics. He was furious at the risk to the baby—to her. For all his iron rules and contracts, Watsons were only indulging her because of the child. She lowered her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He stared at the crown of her head, and the anger burned up into the rawer thing beneath. The phone call had emptied him out; he was still standing in that empty place.

“For the next few days, you’re not going anywhere,” he said, voice low. “You’ll stay in this hospital and rest.”

She bit down on any protest. When she looked up, there was a small, wounded shine in her eyes that wiped his next lecture clean off his tongue.

A knock. Austin stepped in. “Mr. Watson. Mrs. Watson.”

Julian didn’t turn. “Doctor?”

“The doctor says both Mrs. Watson and the baby are fine,” Austin replied crisply. “The car hit her leg, not her abdomen.”

Julian closed his eyes for a breath.

Austin continued, “The driver works for Purple Dragon Biologics—a raw ingredient supplier that won this year’s contract with one of our subsidiaries. They’re a ten-billion outfit under the Mox Group. Their general manager is in town negotiating terms. He also has meetings scheduled with Mayer Group’s CEO, Mr. Liam Mayer.”

Liam.

Julian’s gaze narrowed. The other name you couldn’t avoid at the top of every list—the one bracketed with his.

“Mr. Mayer has already heard Mrs. Watson was injured,” Austin added. “His office called to apologize. He wishes to come by personally to make amends—and speak with you.”

Julian’s expression cooled to something glacial and precise.

He wanted to see Cora?