Chapter 44
Blake watched his boss's face carefully.
By normal standards, Willow's injury might not warrant special reporting to Sterling.
But as a Lancaster family member, her mistreatment by outsiders could reflect poorly on the family's reputation—something Sterling had always fiercely protected.
Moreover, Blake hadn't missed his CEO's recent attentiveness toward Willow.
Sure enough, Sterling's expression darkened slightly at the news.
Blake waited respectfully, expecting instructions.
After a prolonged silence, Sterling finally spoke, his voice measured. "Let Charles handle it."
Willow was Charles's wife, after all. It was only appropriate for him to intervene.
Blake felt relieved, having worried he'd overstepped. "Yes, sir."
Following Sterling's directive, Blake contacted Charles, presenting the information as something he'd noticed by chance.
Upon hearing about Willow's injury, Charles hastily postponed his meetings and rushed to the café.
---
By midday, the café remained packed with customers participating in the opening promotions. Willow and the staff hadn't had a moment's rest.
"Willow, let us handle this. You should rest—your hand needs it," Molly urged, noticing Willow's pallor.
The pain had indeed intensified. Every movement that stretched the burned skin on her hand sent sharp stabs of pain through her.
But with the café so busy, taking a break would leave the other three completely overwhelmed.
"I'm fine," she assured Molly with a forced smile.
Just then, the café door opened again. Willow summoned her energy to greet the new customer.
"Willow." Charles's voice cut through the noise, his breathing still uneven from rushing over.
Her brow furrowed. "Why are you here?"
He'd promised not to use work as an excuse to approach her. Or had Rachel complained to him?
Charles focused only on her bandaged hand, concern etched across his face. "I heard you were hurt. Let me see how bad it is."
He reached for her hand, his worry appearing completely genuine.
Willow couldn't help wondering if he showed the same concern for Rachel. Something ached deep within her chest.
She lowered her gaze, avoiding his outstretched hand. "I'm working, Mr. Lancaster. If you're not here for coffee, I need to get back."
As she turned to leave, Charles's voice rose behind her. "How can you work like this? Where's Gareth Johnson? Get him over here! You're the client's representative—why are you serving customers?"
Unable to direct his frustration at Willow, Charles channeled it toward her employers instead.
"I volunteered," she replied firmly. "This is the first project I've led. I want to ensure it succeeds."
Charles was about to respond when his eyes caught the name "Willow" on her uniform—the café's name, her name. This café had been his surprise gift to her, every detail arranged according to her preferences.
Could she have discovered his intentions? Was she beginning to forgive him?
The possibility made his heart race. With renewed hope, he boldly stepped beside her and took the tray and menu from her hands.
"What are you doing?" she asked, startled.
Charles guided her to an empty seat. "If you're worried, I'll take over. You rest."
Before she could protest, he approached a table of new customers. "What would you like to drink?"
Despite his formal attire and distinguished bearing, which initially made customers wary, Charles quickly put them at ease. Within moments, they were smiling and placing orders.
Willow found herself watching him, lost in thought.
When they'd first met, Charles had been just like this—breaking through her defenses with a few words, then gradually occupying her entire world.
After serving several tables, Molly remembered Willow's injury. Unable to find her at first, she finally spotted Willow sitting in a corner, watching Charles attend to customers.
"Am I seeing things? Is that Mr. Lancaster Jr.?" Molly asked incredulously, approaching Willow.
Willow nodded, her feelings visibly complicated.
Molly observed for a moment. "He's actually pretty good at this."
She glanced between Charles and Willow, sighing wistfully.
Between the flowers, the café, and now Lancaster's heir serving coffee—all for Willow's sake—anyone would believe Charles was genuinely devoted to her. They even looked perfect together.
Such a shame he was already married.
Recalling Willow's earlier comments, Molly began constructing a dramatic scenario in her mind: Charles falling for Willow, the Lancaster family disapproving of her background, forcing them apart and pushing Charles into an arranged marriage. Willow trying to leave, Charles refusing to let go.
Lost in her imagination, Molly gazed at Willow with profound sympathy.
"What?" Willow asked, unsettled by Molly's intense stare.
Still immersed in her fabricated narrative, Molly responded passionately, "Willow, don't forgive him! If a man truly loves you, there's absolutely no room for a third person! Don't fall for his tricks!"
Little did she know her spontaneous fiction had captured much of the truth.
Watching Charles approach, Willow's lips curved in bitter self-mockery. Even a young girl understood this principle—surely Charles did too. He simply didn't love her enough.
"What are you two discussing?" Charles asked, sensing something odd in their expressions as they watched him.
He studied Molly curiously.
Suddenly self-conscious, Molly straightened. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lancaster!"
She nudged Willow discreetly, silently pleading for discretion. After all, she didn't know the full story—she couldn't condemn Charles based solely on her imagination.
Willow maintained her composure. "Molly was just checking on my injury. If you're busy, Mr. Lancaster, you don't need to stay."
Hearing Willow's dismissal, Charles immediately shifted his attention from Molly back to Willow. "I'll wait until your shift ends. You're hurt—I'm concerned."
Before she could send him away again, he excused himself to attend to more customers.