Chapter 130
Chapter 130
Albert stepped forward as well, his face plastered with an ingratiating smile as he seized the opportunity. "That's right, Brandon! We owe you so much for last time—dinner's absolutely on me tonight."
Brandon's brow furrowed. He yanked his arm free with force, disgust flickering in his eyes.
He wanted to refuse, but Albert and Skylar had already flanked him on both sides, effectively boxing him in. Luna positioned herself squarely between him and Harper, blocking any escape route.
"Mr. Martinez, since you have a family dinner waiting, I won't keep you." Harper's lips curved into a mocking smile as she issued her dismissal.
Brandon caught the derision in her eyes. He knew that even if he stayed now, it would only deepen her contempt.
In such a public setting, he didn't want to make an even bigger scene.
He ground his teeth, shot the White family a cold glare, then turned on his heel and strode toward the private dining rooms.
The Whites lit up with delight and hurried after him.
The restaurant fell quiet once more.
A server brought out the appetizers.
Harper set down her knife and fork, turning to Chase with candid directness. "Mr. Rodriguez, I apologize for that embarrassing display. To avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings going forward, I think it's important to clear the air."
Chase looked up, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. "I'm all ears."
"Brandon and I were married for three years, but not long ago, we finalized our divorce." Harper's tone was calm, as if she were delivering a business report. "The woman you just met—Ms. White—is his childhood sweetheart. I don't want my personal history to interfere with the partnership between Starlight Building and Vista Apparel."
Chase listened without a flicker of surprise on his face.
He sliced into his steak, chewed thoughtfully, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin.
"You're overthinking it, Ms. Anderson." His voice was low, carrying the crisp efficiency of a military man. "The Rodriguez family does business based on capability and value. As for the Martinez family drama—I've heard rumors, but frankly, it's none of my concern."
He raised his wine glass in a subtle toast, his gaze sharp and sincere. "Vista Apparel needs a design director who can deliver results. As long as your designs move the market, your private life is your own business. The Martinez family may have considerable influence in Rosewood City, but The Rodriguez family doesn't shy away from trouble."
His words were a reassurance—a safety net Harper desperately needed.
Harper smiled, a radiant, confident expression that swept away the shadows of recent days.
She lifted her glass and clinked it gently against his.
"To a successful partnership."
"To a successful partnership."
The crystal chimed softly.
Dinner concluded smoothly.
After Chase settled the bill, the two walked out of the restaurant side by side. The night air was cool. Chase's sleek black SUV glided smoothly into the city streets.
Inside the vehicle, there was no music—only the low rumble of the engine.
Harper gazed out the window at the passing streetscape, her tightly wound nerves finally beginning to unravel.
When they arrived at her apartment building, Chase pulled up to the curb and killed the engine.
He stepped out and circled around to open the passenger door for her.
"Get some rest." Chase stood beneath the streetlight, his frame tall and commanding, his tone as direct as ever.
"Drive safe. And thank you for tonight, Mr. Rodriguez." Harper nodded politely before turning toward the lobby.
Chase didn't immediately get back into the car.
He leaned against the door, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.
The ember glowed red in the darkness. He tilted his head back slightly, watching until the lights in Harper's apartment flickered on. Only then did he crush the cigarette underfoot, slide back into the driver's seat, and pull away.
Across the street, shrouded in shadow, sat a black Maybach.
The interior was dark. The air inside was suffocating, thick with tension.
Brandon sat in the driver's seat, hands locked in a death grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles were bone-white from the pressure.
His gaze was razor-sharp, fixed on the direction Chase had driven.
The days blurred together in a whirlwind of activity.
Starlight Building's new collection launch entered its final countdown. Harper had been running nonstop for four days straight.
Saturday morning, she'd just brewed a fresh pot of coffee when her phone buzzed on the kitchen island. It was the hospital's private care nurse.
"Ms. Anderson, Mr. Luke Anderson has been experiencing chest tightness for the past few days. He's barely eating, and his energy is very low. Do you think you should come by?"
Harper's heart clenched. She immediately set down her coffee mug, grabbed her car keys, and headed out.
When she arrived at the VIP ward, she'd barely grasped the door handle when a low, gentle male voice drifted out from inside.
She pushed the door open.
Brandon was seated beside the hospital bed in a charcoal-gray cashmere sweater. In his hand was a half-peeled apple, and he was speaking softly to her grandfather.
The moment he saw Harper enter, Brandon froze. He stood up immediately.
"What are you doing here?" Harper's brow furrowed, her tone frosty.
"The nurse said Grandpa wasn't feeling well. I was worried, so I came to check on him." Brandon set down the paring knife and wiped his hands with a tissue.
Harper ignored him and walked straight to the bedside to assess her grandfather's condition.
Luke's complexion was noticeably more ashen than it had been a few days prior, and his breathing sounded labored.
"Get a doctor. I want a full workup done immediately." Harper's tone left no room for argument.
Brandon didn't protest. He turned and left to handle it.
The examination process was extensive. Brandon leveraged the Martinez family's connections to expedite everything.
He ran back and forth—pushing the wheelchair, collecting reports, coordinating with the attending physician—handling every detail seamlessly so Harper didn't have to lift a finger.
After the final cardiopulmonary scan, Luke was wheeled back to his room to rest.
Harper went to the nurse's station to pick up the billing statement. On her way back, the door to the ward was slightly ajar.
She was about to push it open when Brandon's low, hoarse voice filtered through the crack.
"Grandpa, I know I was a bastard. I broke her heart." Brandon sat beside the bed, his spine slightly curved, his posture humble in a way she'd never seen. "But I can't lose her. Ever since she moved out, every time I come home to that empty apartment, I feel like I'm losing my mind."
Luke let out a long sigh but said nothing.
"Please… help me convince her to come back." Brandon's voice was almost pleading, edged with desperate stubbornness. "If she comes back, I'll transfer every share, every property the Martinez family owns into her name. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her."
Outside the door, Harper stood motionless, the thin billing slip clutched in her hand.
Her heart wasn't entirely unmoved. This man—Brandon, who had always been arrogance personified—was now begging an old man in a broken whisper.
But so what?
Belated affection was like expired medicine. It might sting with irony, but it couldn't cure a damn thing.
She closed her eyes and buried that fleeting emotion deep.
Brandon's phone vibrated. It was an urgent call from the office.
He glanced at the screen and lowered his voice. "Grandpa, I need to take this outside."