Chapter 84 A Shift in Perception
"Bianca, you and… your husband—are things good between you two?" Jasmine's voice wavered as she looked at her cousin, reluctance darkening her eyes.
It seemed Bianca's life wasn't easy either.
"It's fine," Bianca said, glancing down at her watch again. Her tone sharpened with urgency. "I should've set an alarm. He's probably starving by now."
To Jasmine, those words carried a different weight entirely.
Was Bianca punished if she didn't have dinner ready on time? Was that why she looked so panicked, so desperate?
Jasmine's hands curled into fists.
If Bianca had protected her, then this time it was her turn to protect Bianca. Even if it meant throwing herself in front of him—even if he had to step over her body—she wouldn't let that terrifying man hurt her cousin.
Jasmine's resolve hardened, her nails digging into her palms.
Bianca had no idea the drama unfolding in Jasmine's head.
She was simply worried Terrence wouldn't eat on time. His stomach had been acting up lately.
Over the past few days, his schedule had been erratic, and he'd barely eaten properly. It had triggered his chronic gastritis again.
And of course, being the stubborn man he was, he hadn't told her a thing.
She'd been planning to take care of him once he moved in—make sure he ate regularly, get him back on track. His eyes were healing faster than expected now that the conflicting medications were out of his system. He could already make out shapes and outlines.
The last thing she needed was for malnutrition to slow his recovery.
With that thought driving her, Bianca quickened her pace. To Jasmine, trailing behind, it only confirmed her worst fears. She steeled herself, ready to face whatever came.
The two of them walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
By the time dusk bled through the apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, Bianca was pulling Jasmine through the front door, both of them breathless.
The motion-sensor light in the entryway flickered on, bathing the space in warm amber light. Terrence sat on the couch, a financial magazine open in his lap, a pen still pinched between his fingers.
At the sound of their arrival, he looked up. His gaze swept over Bianca's reddened eyes, then shifted to Jasmine—her swollen lids, her nose still pink from crying. His brow furrowed, just barely.
"Sorry I'm late." Bianca set down Jasmine's backpack, her voice heavy with exhaustion and guilt. "Something came up. I didn't have time to make dinner."
The housekeeper emerged from the kitchen, taking the bag from her hands. "Mr. Anderson has been waiting nearly two hours. He had food prepared. It's being kept warm in the kitchen."
Bianca's chest tightened. She opened her mouth to explain, but Terrence was already on his feet, crossing the room toward her. He reached out, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. The warmth of his fingers was grounding, reassuring.
"Are you cold?" His voice was low, gentle, with no trace of irritation. "Take your… friend and get settled. I'll have them reheat everything."
His fingertips brushed her cheek, and Bianca realized for the first time that she'd been crying—tears she hadn't even noticed falling while listening to Jasmine's story.
Her nose stung. She started to say something, but Terrence lightly patted the top of her head, his tone softening further. "Go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."
Behind Bianca, Jasmine clutched the hem of her cousin's shirt, peeking up at Terrence with wide, cautious eyes.
Before tonight, she'd only known him through rumors—the ruthless CEO of the Anderson Group, a man whose presence alone could silence a room.
But watching him now, the way his expression softened when he looked at Bianca, the patience in his voice—it chipped away at the image she'd built in her mind.
Maybe he wasn't as terrifying as people said.
Dinner was far more relaxed than Jasmine had expected.
Bianca kept piling food onto her plate, worried she'd feel out of place. Meanwhile, Terrence quietly pushed Bianca's favorite dishes closer to her without a word.
They didn't interact much, but there was an ease between them—a familiarity that couldn't be faked, the kind that only came from time spent together.
And Bianca didn't seem afraid of him at all. If anything, she looked more at ease here than she ever did at school.
Realizing this, Jasmine let out a quiet breath of relief.
She was happy for Bianca. Truly.
After dinner, Jasmine tried to excuse herself, but Bianca wouldn't hear it.
"You're staying here for a while. I need you where I can see you. I won't be able to relax otherwise." Bianca's hands rested firmly on Jasmine's shoulders, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Bianca, won't I be in the way?" Jasmine's head dipped, her hands twisting together nervously.
Bianca's thumb brushed gently across the corner of Jasmine's eye, the touch light and ticklish, yet somehow reaching straight into her chest, steadying her racing heart.
"Never, Jasmine. My home is always open to you."
She pulled Jasmine into her arms, rubbing slow circles on her back.
Jasmine breathed in her scent, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. There was something familiar about this embrace, something that tugged at a memory she couldn't quite reach.
It reminded her of her mother.
It made her want to lean in closer, to stay here where it was safe.
"Bianca…" Jasmine's voice cracked. She pressed herself tighter against her cousin, and a hot tear slipped down her cheek, splashing silently onto the floor.
Once Jasmine was settled in for the night, Bianca returned to the bedroom.
Terrence sat in the armchair, legs stretched out in front of him, lazily flipping through a financial report. Every so often, he'd reach up and adjust the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
The whole picture screamed refined menace, and it made Bianca's pulse quicken.
She cleared her throat softly and crossed the room, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him. She plucked the report from his hands and tossed it aside, looping her arms around his neck and tilting his face up toward hers.
"Terrence, I want to keep Jasmine here at the apartment."
She watched him closely, her heart thudding with nervous anticipation.
She wasn't sure he'd agree, but she had to ask. She had to convince him, no matter what.
This wasn't Crystal Gardens. The odds were in her favor.
"Fine." Terrence paused, his hand sliding around her waist. "The apartment's yours. Do what you want with it."
Bianca's face lit up. She traced the line of his brow with her fingertip, her touch slow and deliberate, the smooth glide of her skin over his brow bone carrying a hint of provocation.
There was something about Terrence in glasses that made him look untouchable, almost sacred. It made her want to corrupt him.
She wanted to watch those cold, detached eyes behind the gold frames drown in desire, helpless and undone.
"Terrence, I want to take Jasmine to my mother's resort tomorrow." Bianca's finger dragged down over his Adam's apple, pressing just enough to make him feel it.
His throat bobbed under her touch. His hand tightened around her waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled her flush against him.