Chapter 9
Charles had no idea what was happening with Willow.
After leaving her with the car, he hadn't gone to the office at all—he'd had his driver take him to a restaurant where Gareth Johnson was waiting.
"Mr. Lancaster," Gareth said politely, rising to his feet.
Charles took the seat across from him, expression distinctly displeased. "Mr. Johnson, you seem to have ignored what I told him."
Gareth played dumb. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Willow was hired by your company, wasn't she?" Charles's eyes turned cold.
When Gareth didn't respond, Charles continued, "Find a reason to fire her within a week."
"That's... difficult." Gareth looked uncomfortable. "The offer letter has already been sent. If she performs well, I can't just dismiss her without cause."
He studied Charles's face. "May I ask, Mr. Lancaster—has she done something to offend you?"
Charles was about to respond when his phone rang. Annoyed, he was going to ignore it until he caught sight of the caller ID: Sterling Lancaster.
What was this call about? Stepping aside, he answered, "Uncle Sterling."
"Willow is at Hope Springs Hospital," Sterling's deep voice came through. "I'm about to leave. Get here as soon as you can."
"What? What happened to her?" Charles was already striding toward the exit.
Sterling had already hung up.
Without even saying goodbye to Gareth, Charles rushed to his car and instructed his driver to take him to Hope Springs immediately. During the drive, his entire body tensed with worry.
How had Willow ended up in the hospital?
Yes, he'd tampered with the brakes, but Willow had been driving so slowly, and downtown traffic wasn't exactly fast-moving. Even if she'd hit something, it should have just been a minor scrape.
He'd only wanted to scare her into giving up and asking for his help—not to actually hurt her!
"Drive faster!" he urged, growing more anxious by the minute.
Half an hour later, Charles rushed into the hospital room.
Sterling was sitting on a sofa opposite the bed where Willow lay hooked up to an IV, fast asleep.
Charles glanced at her, relieved to see no visible injuries. "Uncle Sterling. What happened to Willow? Why are you here?"
Sterling looked up, his expression calm yet somehow intimidating.
Blake, who stood nearby, explained, "Ms. Spencer crashed her car into ours."
Charles's expression faltered. What a coincidence. "Willow isn't a good driver. She was just practicing today. It wasn't intentional, Uncle Sterling. Please don't take it personally."
He assumed Sterling was merely annoyed about the car. Looking back at Willow, he wondered why she was unconscious if the crash hadn't been serious.
"The IV contains sedatives," Sterling's deep voice filled the room. Charles thought he detected a note of reproach in his tone. "She's been in a car accident before."
"Yes, but it was many years ago..." Charles's voice trailed off under Sterling's heavy gaze.
"Charles, your marriage happened because you insisted, and I convinced your mother to agree," Sterling said, studying his nephew critically. "I let you marry her—not so you could play games with her life."
His eyes seemed to see through everything, making Charles unable to meet his gaze.
Though Sterling was only five years older, he often commanded the same authority as Charles's grandfather.
No wonder his grandfather had entrusted the Lancaster family to Sterling so early, bypassing his own sons.
"Explain the rest to her yourself," Sterling instructed before leaving with Blake.
The room fell silent.
Charles anxiously approached the bed. Willow was awake now, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
Her expression broke his heart. "Babe, I'm so sorry, I—"
"How many days have we been married?" Willow interrupted, turning to him. "And how many times have you apologized to me?"
Charles opened his mouth but found no words.
After a long moment, he took her hand guiltily. "I promise this is the last time. When I got Uncle Sterling's call, I was terrified. I was afraid of losing you."
"Is that all?" Willow asked. "Nothing else you want to tell me?"
Charles met her gaze and felt exposed, as if she could see right through him.
He should confess about tampering with the brakes, but the thought of disappointing her made the words stick in his throat.
"During the crash, I was fully conscious," she said, his silence chilling her heart. "I was driving slowly, but the brakes wouldn't respond. I watched helplessly as I hit the car in front of me."
"Willow..." Charles wanted her to stop.
But she continued. "Charles, how long have you had that car? Less than a month, right? Would the brakes on a million-dollar car fail so quickly?"
Her voice grew more intense. "You knew I'd been in an accident before, that I had trauma about driving. Do you know what I felt in that moment? I heard my father calling for help, begging someone to save me. I wanted to save him too, but I couldn't reach his hand."
The memories from an hour ago merged with those from years before, the despair visible in her eyes.
Seeing her disappointment, Charles was overcome with regret.
"Willow, I didn't know. I truly didn't know this would happen." He had only wanted to frighten her a little. "I was wrong. Hit me if it will make you feel better..." He tried to guide her hand to his face.
Willow coldly pulled away. She knew him too well. If she actually struck him, he'd consider the matter settled.
"I'm going to work on Monday as planned," she said firmly. "If anything happens to this job, we're getting divorced."
"Of course," Charles quickly agreed. "You'll go to work. I'll wake up an hour early to drive you to the office and pick you up after work."
He spoke without hesitation, as if he hadn't been the one claiming he couldn't drive her every day just that morning.
Willow realized that his earlier excuse had been just another attempt to keep her from working.
It had taken all this drama for him to finally compromise.