Chapter 124

Chapter 124

Harper picked up the thermos. "I'll go get some hot water."

She turned and walked out of the hospital room, the door closing softly behind her.

The room fell silent.

Luke lay propped against his pillows, the oxygen machine emitting soft, rhythmic sounds.

His clouded gaze settled on Brandon, stripped of the warmth he'd shown his granddaughter, replaced by scrutiny and exhaustion.

"Brandon," Luke began slowly, his voice hoarse.

Brandon immediately stepped forward, bending slightly. "Yes, sir?"

"Harper's been stubborn since she was a child." Luke sighed, staring into empty space. "When she married into the Martinez family, I was happy. I thought with your family's wealth and influence, you'd protect her for life. But these past three years, she hasn't been happy."

Brandon's throat worked. His hands, hanging at his sides, unconsciously clenched.

"Just because she doesn't say anything doesn't mean I'm blind." Luke turned his head, looking directly at him. "You had someone else in your heart. You wronged her. If you can't give her what she needs, end it now while she's still young. Don't waste any more of her time."

Luke's words carried no harsh accusations, yet each one pierced deep.

Brandon met the old man's gaze without flinching.

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice low but carrying unprecedented determination. "Sir, I've never considered divorcing Harper."

Luke's brow furrowed. Before he could speak, Brandon continued, "I was a bastard before. I didn't recognize my own heart, ignored her feelings. But now I'm very clear—I can't lose her. I'm trying to win her back. I'll spend however long it takes to make up for these three years."

The hospital room fell into brief silence.

Luke studied the tall, imposing man before him.

Brandon was famous in Rosewood City's business circles as an iron-fisted executive, yet here he stood, his proud head bowed.

Luke sighed inwardly. He knew his own body—this heart wouldn't last much longer.

Once he closed his eyes, Harper would be truly alone in this world.

Brandon had made mistakes, but if he could truly turn over a new leaf, with the Martinez family's power and resources, Harper's future would at least have support.

"Brandon." His tone softened, carrying the trust of a dying man. "I don't have much time left. What worries me most is Harper. If you truly don't want this divorce, then show some real backbone. Treat her right. Don't let her suffer anymore."

Brandon nodded solemnly. "Sir, you have my word. I stake my life on it."

Footsteps sounded outside.

Harper walked in carrying the thermos, immediately sensing something odd in the room's atmosphere.

She glanced at Brandon but said nothing, walking straight to the bedside table to pour water.

Brandon wisely retreated half a step, not pressing his luck.

A week later, Luke's condition stabilized completely. He was transferred from the ICU to a regular VIP room with a professional care team providing 24-hour assistance.

After confirming Luke was out of danger, Harper returned to Starlight Building.

Work had piled up. She'd barely sat down when the receptionist called—she had a visitor.

Harper pushed open the conference room door and paused slightly at the sight of the man on the sofa.

Chase wore a charcoal jacket, sitting ramrod straight like a pine tree rooted in stone.

Seeing her enter, he stood, inclining his head slightly. "Ms. Anderson, sorry to intrude."

"Mr. Rodriguez, what brings you here personally? Is there an issue with the Vista Apparel partnership?" Harper walked over, gesturing for him to sit.

"The partnership's going smoothly." Chase got straight to the point. "I'm here on personal business. I'd like you to custom-make several suits for business occasions. I spent years in the military and never paid much attention to these things. Now that I'm taking over the family business, I need proper attire. My mother highly recommended you."

Harper smiled. "Of course. Do you have any specific requirements for style or fabric?"

"Simple, clean lines, easy to move in." Chase's answer was characteristically direct.

Over the following days, Chase made frequent visits to Starlight Building to confirm fabrics, take measurements, and discuss tailoring details.

He was extremely disciplined and decisive, never wasting words.

Harper was equally work-focused, and they communicated with surprising compatibility.

After finishing each discussion, Chase occasionally brought coffee or suggested a quick meal if their schedules aligned.

No deliberate flattery—just the comfortable, appropriate interaction between adults.

Harper didn't mind this straightforward dynamic.

Friday afternoon, Harper took advantage of a work break to drive back to the apartment she'd shared with Brandon.

Her new place was essentially fully furnished. This trip was only to retrieve a few important personal documents and some rare design books she'd left in the study.

The apartment was silent. Harper entered the study and packed the books and documents into a black tote bag.

She'd just lifted the bag and stepped out when the electronic lock at the entrance beeped.

The door opened. Brandon walked in carrying his briefcase, clearly having left work early. Seeing Harper standing in the living room, he froze, his eyes instantly lighting up with surprise.

"Harper, you're here." He strode forward, his gaze falling on the black bag in her hand. His smile stiffened slightly.

Harper instinctively shifted the bag behind her, unwilling to complicate matters at this moment.

Her expression cooled as she cut straight to the point. "Perfect timing. Do you have the divorce papers ready?"

The color drained from Brandon's face. He stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

"The papers... legal is still reviewing final details." He looked away, offering an incredibly flimsy excuse, then his tone turned almost pleading. "Harper, Christmas is coming up. If we file for divorce now and Grandpa finds out in the hospital, it'll upset him. How about... we wait until after Christmas? Please?"

He was stalling. He thought if he delayed long enough, he'd find an opportunity to salvage things.

Harper looked at this man trying to maintain pretenses with various excuses, feeling only deep exhaustion.

"Brandon, how long are you going to keep deceiving yourself?" Harper didn't yield, her gaze clear and sharp as she met his eyes. "I don't want to wait another day."

"Harper..." Brandon stepped forward, trying to take her hand.

Harper jerked backward, creating distance between them.

"Don't touch me." Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried bone-deep coldness.

She looked at him, cutting open the festering wounds of three years, laying them bare in the light.

"You mention Christmas? Let's talk about Christmas. Last Christmas, I made a whole dinner waiting for you. You said you had a company event. And what happened? Luna posted photos of you two watching fireworks together. The year before, I had acute gastritis. I was sweating from pain in the middle of the night and called you—you hung up. The next day you told me you were helping Luna deal with a car accident."