Chapter 173
Andrew's POV
My phone rang as I navigated through the empty streets, Elizabeth's name flashing on the dashboard display. I glanced at Julie in the passenger seat—she was staring out the window, worried sick about her brother's situation.
"Andrew." Elizabeth's crisp voice filled the car through the speakers.
"Everything's progressing smoothly," I reported, keeping my tone professional. "Wilson Holdings is operating well. Grace has arranged her schedule."
I could hear the satisfaction in Elizabeth's voice. "Good. What about her work arrangements?"
"All handled. She delegated all affairs properly before taking her leave." I paused, deliberately concealing the fact that Julie was sitting right beside me. "I'm currently driving to meet some friends."
There was a slight hesitation on Elizabeth's end. "Andrew, you need to be careful about your social connections. You represent the Wilson family now."
Here we go again. I'd heard this lecture before. "Of course."
"I've been considering expanding your network, introducing you to some suitable... candidates. Though I've heard some concerning things about your private life."
Julie shifted in her seat, and I caught her raised eyebrow from my peripheral vision. Elizabeth had tried matchmaking before—I'd politely declined every arrangement.
"I have only one requirement for you, Andrew," Elizabeth continued, her voice taking on that familiar edge. "Don't make mistakes. Everything else, I don't care about."
"Understood."
After hanging up, the smile immediately vanished from my face. Ever since Grace had planted those seeds of doubt, facing Elizabeth felt different. Conversations that once felt like guidance now seemed full of calculation and manipulation.
What if she's just using me? What if everything Grace said was right?
The thought terrified me more than I was willing to admit. If Elizabeth really was the enemy Grace claimed she was, it would mean my entire life—everything I'd built my identity around—was a lie.
I reached over and patted Julie's thigh, making her jump and instinctively pull away.
"Andrew! What are you doing?"
"Relax," I said, though I could hear the tension in my own voice. "I was just trying to get your attention."
The reason we were out tonight was because earlier I'd seen Julie frantically trying to hail a taxi outside the office building, looking panicked and desperate. When I'd pulled over to ask what was wrong, she'd told me about her brother Harry—apparently the kid had gotten into a fight at school and was now in the hospital.
Harry attended boarding school in a remote location two hours away. The thought of Julie making that journey alone at night made me uneasy, so I'd insisted on driving her myself.
"You know," I said, stretching my neck dramatically, "driving for two hours is absolute torture on my back. I think I deserve some kind of compensation for this good deed."
Julie pulled out her phone and showed me the recording interface.
My mouth fell open. "You recorded that?"
"Insurance," she said simply.
I was quiet for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh. This girl was smarter than I'd given her credit for. "Fine. But you have to keep me company during this drive. That's my compensation—conversation."
She seemed to consider this, then nodded. "Deal."
As we began the long drive, she'd been tense the entire time, obviously worried about her brother.
"What's it like?" I asked. "Having siblings?"
Julie was quiet for a while, and I watched her profile in the dashboard light. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual.
"It means knowing that no matter what happens, you're never truly alone."
There was something wistful in her tone that made me glance at her again. I'd never heard her speak like this before—vulnerable, almost.
"Harry's younger than me, but he's always trying to protect me," she continued. "Even when he's scared, he'll still stand in front of me. It's like... having this constant support, you know?"
I felt the familiar bitterness rise in my throat. As an adopted son in the Wilson family, I'd always observed other families from the outside, always wondering what that kind of bond felt like. "Poverty keeps kids together, I suppose."
"Poverty made us warm," she corrected, her voice now carrying a steely determination.
The response caught me off guard. I'd expected defensiveness, maybe embarrassment. Instead, she sounded almost proud. It was... unexpected.
"Tell me about your mother," I found myself asking. "Is she good to you?"
"My mother is the best mother in the world," Julie said without hesitation.
I couldn't help but scoff. The certainty in her voice was almost naive. "How can someone who can't even provide basic necessities be the 'best' mother? What kind of mother lets her children suffer?"
Silence fell in the car, and when I glanced over, I saw Julie's hands clenched into fists on her knees. Her entire body had gone rigid.
"Do you think money is the measure of love?" Her voice was quiet but intense, and I could hear something dangerous hidden underneath. "Do you think because my mother doesn't have money, she can't take care of her children?"
"I didn't say—"
"My mother worked three jobs when Harry and I were little," Julie interrupted, her voice growing stronger with each word. "She came home exhausted every night, but she still helped us with homework. She still made sure we ate dinner together. She still tucked us in and told us stories."
I could see her eyes glistening in the dashboard light, and something uncomfortable twisted in my chest.
"When she got sick last year—really sick—she never complained. Not once. She kept taking care of us, kept making sure we were okay, even when she could barely stand." Julie's voice trembled slightly. "When a mother who doesn't have much money can still raise her children well, isn't that a kind of greatness? Doesn't that love count for something?"
I stared ahead at the road, somewhat stunned. I'd never heard Julie say this much at once, and certainly never with such passion. The quiet, confrontational girl I thought I knew had just revealed depths I hadn't imagined.
For the first time in my life, I felt a pang of guilt. Everything I'd just said—measuring worth by wealth, dismissing love that didn't come with a price tag—this was exactly the kind of thinking that made people like Grace consider people like me heartless.
I could see Julie's eyes were red now, and something twisted in my chest. When was the last time I'd made someone cry? When was the last time I'd cared that I had?
"I said something wrong," I admitted quietly.
It wasn't much of an apology, but it was the first time I'd acknowledged being wrong about something like this. The words felt foreign in my mouth, but somehow necessary.
Julie quickly wiped her eyes and turned toward the window. "Yeah. You did."
We drove in silence for a while, the weight of her words settling between us. Outside, the city lights gave way to darker country roads, and I found myself thinking about mothers, love, and what it really meant to care for someone.
I'd never thought about this before—what it would be like to love someone enough to die for them, or to be loved by someone who chose you over their own comfort every single day.
Elizabeth had given me everything money could buy, but listening to Julie talk about her mother, I realized I'd never experienced the kind of thing she was describing. That fierce, protective love that asked for nothing in return.