Chapter 28
"Willow! How dare you—" Gloria's face flushed with humiliation as she prepared to confront her.
Suddenly, respectful greetings erupted behind them. "Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Bailey."
Gloria swallowed her words and turned.
Willow looked up to see Sterling stepping out of a car with Blake following closely. They didn't appear to be returning from work.
Employees around them watched Sterling with deferential attention.
"Mr. Lancaster," Willow greeted politely as they approached.
Sterling's gaze swept over her face before landing on Gloria still on the ground. "Explain what's happening here."
"Sterry!" Gloria scrambled to her feet with an injured expression and positioned herself beside him. "I was just kindly reminding Willa that you don't like people using connections to secure projects, and she got angry."
She glanced surreptitiously at Willow, her voice growing more pitiful. "Perhaps my tone wasn't ideal, and she misunderstood."
Sterling didn't respond, waiting for Willow to speak.
"That's not what happened," Willow stated calmly.
She turned toward Gloria. "Ms. Brown, are you certain that's the truth? Perhaps you've forgotten how many people witnessed what just occurred."
A flicker of guilt crossed Gloria's face, but standing before Sterling, she couldn't possibly admit she had provoked Willow first.
"Sterry, my leg hurts so much," she whimpered, attempting to change the subject.
Sterling gave her a sidelong glance before instructing Blake, "Take Ms. Brown upstairs."
"Ms. Brown, this way please," Blake responded.
"Sterry..." Gloria hesitated, realizing Sterling had no intention of accompanying her. With Blake's gentle urging, she reluctantly followed him away.
Left alone with Sterling, Willow thought he might not believe her. "Mr. Lancaster, Ms. Brown fell on her own. You can check the security footage if you don't believe me."
"What did you call me?" Sterling asked.
Willow paused, then realized her formality. "I'm here on business matters, so naturally I should address you as Mr. Lancaster."
Sterling made no comment.
"Missing yesterday's meeting was my fault. Here's my proposal for your consideration." Willow presented the prepared document with both hands.
Sterling looked down at her, letting several seconds pass. Just as Willow began to withdraw her hands, thinking he would refuse, Sterling unhurriedly grasped the other end of the folder.
"It wasn't your fault," he said in a deep voice, studying her. "But why come in person?"
Willow shifted uncomfortably. "Mr. Johnson insisted..."
Sterling thought of Gareth's fawning demeanor whenever they met, then looked at the woman before him. His expression darkened slightly. "I understand. You can go now."
Willow glanced up, carefully assessing his expression. If even she could see through Gareth's intentions, Sterling surely knew as well. Would he think she shared those motives?
"Uncle Sterling..." she began hesitantly.
"Not calling me Mr. Lancaster anymore?" Sterling remarked.
"If you're uncomfortable with this situation, you can return the proposal," Willow said. "I'll resign when I get back. This company isn't right for me anyway."
She respected Sterling and felt grateful for his help. The last thing she wanted was awkwardness between them.
"Are you questioning my ability to separate personal and professional matters?" Sterling's tone grew heavier.
Willow quickly denied this. "I just don't want to cause you any trouble."
Sterling looked down at the top of her head. "Worry about yourself first."
With that, he turned and walked away with her document, leaving Willow staring at his broad back.
She belatedly realized her hands had gone numb from tension. But from Sterling's response, it seemed he had accepted her proposal.
Recalling his words, Willow suppressed the strange feeling in her chest.
If Sterling wasn't concerned about the situation, she had no reason to dwell on it either.
By the time she left the Lancaster Group Building, it was after four in the afternoon. As she debated whether to return to her office, her phone rang.
Willow checked the caller ID and frowned. It was Charles's mother, Penelope.
In the eight years she'd been with Charles, Penelope had contacted her only a handful of times—and never with good news.
Willow was reluctant to answer, but the persistent ringing left her no choice.
As soon as she connected the call, Penelope's sharp demands came through. "Where are you? Come to the Lancaster Manor immediately!"
"Mom, I'm not feeling well today..." She lacked the energy for another confrontation.
Previously, Willow had tolerated Penelope out of respect for Charles. Now that divorce seemed inevitable, she saw little reason to continue being so accommodating.
Her refusal only fueled Penelope's anger. "Not feeling well? Perfect! Then we'll go to the hospital and have this discussion in front of your grandmother!"
Willow's fingers tightened around her phone. She could faintly hear Charles trying to intervene in the background.
Penelope ignored him. "You have thirty minutes. If you don't come, I'll go to the hospital myself!"
"Fine, I'll be right there," Willow conceded.
After hanging up, she took a deep breath to calm herself, then hailed a taxi to the Lancaster Manor.
When she arrived, Charles was sitting with Penelope in the living room.
Whatever they'd been discussing had left Penelope's meticulously maintained face flushed with anger while Charles looked resigned.
"Honey..." Charles's expression grew complicated when he saw her.
Willow quickly assessed their expressions, silently questioning Charles with her eyes. He only shook his head.
"Mom, did you need something?" Willow finally asked Penelope directly.
Penelope turned as if just noticing her presence. She looked Willow up and down, her gaze filled with disdain.
Willow was accustomed to this treatment. Penelope had always considered her beneath Charles's station, an unworthy match.
Today, however, the contempt in Penelope's eyes seemed to contain something more—as if Willow had committed some unforgivable transgression.
Noticing this, Willow grew cautious.
"You have the nerve to ask?" Penelope fixed her gaze on Willow's face, her tone hostile.
Willow pressed her lips together, about to speak. But Penelope gave her no opportunity.
"Take off your clothes!" she commanded, her voice filled with an authority that brooked no refusal.