Chapter 59 Do Something for Me
Quinley returned to the hospital to find Mrs. Hill still kneeling in the same spot—though not with much sincerity. She hunched over, twisting and shifting uncomfortably.
With Marlee keeping the hospital room door firmly shut, Mrs. Hill pressed herself against the crack, sighing dramatically.
Passersby pointed and whispered. She glared back with a vicious expression, her face twisted in fury.
Quinley approached quietly from a distance. Mrs. Hill didn't notice her arrival—she was too busy texting her lover on her phone while kneeling.
[You bastard, I'd get more loyalty from a dog than from you. Once I get through this mess, I swear I won't let you off easy.]
Her fingers flew across the screen, message after message, but he wasn't responding to a single one. Frustrated, she started calling him repeatedly. When he wouldn't pick up, she kept dialing while cursing under her breath.
"Damn ungrateful piece of trash!"
Her language was getting increasingly vulgar. Quinley had heard enough.
"Ahem." She cleared her throat deliberately.
Mrs. Hill spun around to find Quinley standing right behind her. Her hefty frame trembled with shock as she hastily put away her phone and straightened her back.
"Ms. Elikin, please, I'm begging you to forgive me just this once. I swear—" She raised her right hand with exaggerated solemnity.
Quinley crossed her arms and watched coldly, saying nothing.
"I know I was wrong. I must have been out of my mind to do something so stupid. You're generous and forgiving—I'll never dare do it again."
Mrs. Hill's voice was hoarse from a full day without food or water, her throat dry as sandpaper.
"Forgiving you... isn't impossible," Quinley said, then let the words hang in the air.
Mrs. Hill's eyes lit up with hope. She shuffled closer on her knees, reaching out to grab Quinley's legs, but Quinley stepped back.
"Ms. Elikin, as long as you forgive me, I'll do anything you ask."
"Really?"
Mrs. Hill nodded frantically.
Quinley smiled slightly and pulled out her phone, dialing Lucas in front of her. "Mr. Murphy, should I forgive Mrs. Hill?"
Lucas, wearing his Bluetooth earpiece, had just dropped Zachary off at Apex Global Group. "That's up to you. Mr. Jennings said everything is at your discretion."
The call was on speaker—Mrs. Hill heard every word. Her face went pale.
"Ms. Elikin, please believe me just this once. I guarantee I'll never dare do it again."
At the crucial moment, Quinley chose to continue the pressure. "What guarantee can you give me?"
Mrs. Hill was struck speechless.
Lucas quickly sent Quinley a video file. "See if this is useful."
After hanging up, Quinley opened the video. The content was filthy and unwatchable.
Mrs. Hill's face contorted in anguish. "Ms. Elikin, please delete that. If this video gets out, I'm finished."
She was telling the truth.
Quinley closed the video and put away her phone. "Don't worry, I'll delete it. But you need to do something for me first."
"What? Ms. Elikin, not just one thing—as long as it's legal, I'd do a hundred things for you."
She was desperate to show her sincerity, eager to remove the sword hanging over her head.
Quinley knew better than anyone that easy forgiveness only led to future betrayal. She kept her cards close to her chest.
"I haven't decided yet. When I do, I'll let you know. As long as you handle it properly, we'll call it even."
"Yes, yes, Ms. Elikin. I'll do whatever you say."
Mrs. Hill nodded like a bobblehead, relief flooding her features.
Quinley opened the hospital room door to go inside.
Mrs. Hill hesitated to get up, looking at Quinley suspiciously. "Ms. Elikin, can I go now?"
"Do whatever you want."
Five minutes later, Mrs. Hill was gone.
Quinley went downstairs to buy roasted chicken for Dennis. He was in recovery, and the doctors insisted on a bland diet, but he'd been craving real food. Quinley's soft heart occasionally gave in to his requests.
As she reached Dennis's room, she heard voices inside. He was on the phone, clearly agitated.
"I already told you—I really don't have any money right now. Stop pressuring me, okay?"
His voice was a low roar, as if he'd been holding back for too long.
Without thinking much of it, Quinley turned the handle and walked in.
Dennis immediately hung up and shoved his phone under the pillow when he heard her enter.
"Who were you talking to?"
His eyes darted away. "Nobody. I was just reviewing my coursework."
"Denny, you won't even tell me the truth?"
Quinley sensed he was hiding something important from her, but Dennis refused to explain, deflecting instead.
"You really bought me roasted chicken! I'm practically starving." He reached for the bag eagerly, tore it open, and devoured the food like a man possessed.
"This is so good," he mumbled through a mouthful, forcing a bright smile to distract her attention.
"I'm full now. Gonna study some more." He finished the entire chicken in record time, opened a textbook, and pretended to read, hoping to fool her.
Quinley's anger simmered beneath a deceptively calm surface—not fierce, but terrifying.
"Did you borrow from loan sharks again?"
Dennis immediately denied it. "Of course not!"
"Then tell me who's pressuring you for money."
"Nobody's pressuring me for anything."
Quinley pulled out her phone and called Dennis's number. The phone buzzed under his pillow. When she reached for it, Dennis got there first.
"Give it to me!" Quinley demanded.
"Why should I? This is my privacy—you have no right to interfere. So what if you paid off three million for me? I'll pay you back when I start working. What gives you the right to control everything I do? I don't want to see you right now—get out!"
Dennis completely lost control, grabbing his pillow and hurling it at Quinley, then sweeping everything off his bedside table onto the floor.
When Quinley didn't leave, he started punching himself.
Dennis was stubborn and sensitive. After experiencing several devastating setbacks, mountains of pressure weighed on his mind. Quinley didn't dare push him further.
"Fine, I won't pressure you. But don't hurt yourself either. Denny, I'm your sister. If you're in trouble, you need to tell me first. I can help you."
"I don't want your help." Dennis was still throwing his tantrum.
Quinley sighed deeply and left the room.
As the door closed behind her, Dennis broke down sobbing.
Whatever trouble he'd gotten into remained a mystery to Quinley, but she knew he was suffering. They were cut from the same cloth—people who'd rather bear their burdens alone than trouble others, even their closest family.
She couldn't force her way into his problems under the guise of helping him. Love should be built on respect.
Outside his room, Quinley leaned against the wall. Dennis's heartbroken sobs felt like gentle rain falling in her own chest.
Eventually, the room fell quiet, and only then did Quinley leave.
That night, Marlee stayed at the hospital while Quinley waited for everyone to fall asleep before returning to her apartment in the south part of the city.
The night was thick with darkness, wind picking up and carrying a hint of chill. Getting out of the taxi, Quinley quickened her pace toward home.
The hallway lights had burned out at some point, leaving everything pitch black.
At her door, Quinley pulled out her keys to unlock it when suddenly, a hand grabbed her pant leg.