Chapter 14 Kindness Without Reason
That afternoon, Tom delivered a contract from Armando for Elizabeth to sign. He had no idea what it contained.
"Elizabeth, I'm sorry. Last night... I couldn't stop them."
Tom's apology was genuine.
Elizabeth shook her head. "There were too many of them, and you couldn't take them on. I still want to thank you."
She wasn't the kind to lash out at someone who wasn't to blame.
"Michael will never show his face to you again. He's in prison now. And the Johnson Group has cut all ties with the Wilson family."
The news about Michael made Elizabeth think of Timothy's phone call that morning. It seemed he had helped her again.
As for the Johnson Group severing ties with the Wilson family, she wasn't naïve enough to believe Armando had done it for her sake.
Business was a battlefield.
If the Wilson family stumbled, the Johnson Group could swallow some of their assets and grow stronger.
Tom wasn't defending Armando; he simply wanted Elizabeth to know the Wilson family could no longer threaten her.
Timothy appeared at the door with a bag of food. He knocked once before stepping inside, his eyes flicking to Tom.
"Do I need to give you two some privacy?" His voice was lazy, almost amused.
Elizabeth shook her head. "No."
Tom nodded to Timothy in greeting. "Hello. I'm Tom Davis. Thank you for last night."
Timothy's smile was faint. "You're welcome. We're family, after all."
Tom, hearing this, assumed Timothy was her relative. They shook hands lightly. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Robinson."
Turning back to Elizabeth, Tom said, "Ms. Penrose, get some rest. Be ready to return to work next week. Call me if you need anything."
"Alright. Thank you."
When Tom left, Timothy set the food on the table and asked casually, "You're going back to the Johnson Group?"
He'd looked into what had happened.
Armando had taken her to apologize to Michael.
After all that... she still planned to go back to work?
And she hadn't even gotten angry?
She didn't seem like someone without a temper.
His voice cooled. "Elizabeth... do you love him that much?"
She didn't have the chance to answer. A nurse burst in, breathless. "Dr. Robinson, the ER's full. We've got multiple patients with severe burns. They need you now."
Timothy gave Elizabeth one last look before striding out.
He was there for her through the procedure, ensuring she recovered from the abortion. He hired Zola to cook her three nourishing meals a day.
Elizabeth noticed the subtle distance in him afterward.
He was angry.
For two days she puzzled over it, unable to figure out why.
Zola emerged from the kitchen with a platter. "Elizabeth, this is tuna from the northern South Sea. Mr. Robinson had it flown in. It's excellent for recovery."
Zola was from Sovereign City, her speech occasionally tinged with an accent.
She smiled knowingly. "Mr. Robinson cares for you very much."
Even with the accent, Elizabeth understood perfectly. And it startled her.
Timothy... cared for her?
She tried not to dwell on it. No man was good to a woman for no reason.
Unless he flirted with everyone.
But Timothy clearly wasn't that kind of man.
So why was he good to her? And why was he angry? It seemed tied to her decision to return to the Johnson Group as Armando's secretary.
Eating the tender fish, she narrowed her eyes. A thought began to take shape.
Either he liked her, he'd wronged her somehow... or he had an ulterior motive.
When she finished, she calculated the cost of the fish, transferred the money to Timothy, and sent him a message.
It read: [Mr. Robinson, thank you. The fish was delicious.]
A short while later, Facebook showed he'd accepted the transfer. His reply was a single word.
Timothy: [Good.]
Elizabeth typed: [Are you angry?]
When she probed like this, she used formal address.
Timothy sat cross‑legged on the floor, absently scrolling through his phone while Harold's voice drifted through the room in a slow, deliberate rhythm, reciting an old Latin prayer.
He replied: [Not really.]
What was there to be angry about? The whole thing had been nothing more than a twist of fate.
She could do whatever she wanted.
Harold Rogers — a respected chaplain Matthew had invited — watched him with quiet suspicion. Timothy's sudden streak of generosity didn't sit right with him.
Timothy slipped his phone into his pocket. "Mr. Rogers, will you teach me that prayer? The one meant to guide the lost to peace."
He murmured, "It's the only thing I can offer the child who never lived."
Despite his refined, almost languid demeanor, there was a trace of steel in his eyes.
Harold, perceptive as ever, simply murmured, "Amen."
Seeing his brief reply, Elizabeth decided not to press further.
Whatever his reason for being upset, it wasn't worth digging into.
They were worlds apart.
And she had no intention of starting a new romance.
She still had a deal with Armando.
Elizabeth was clear‑headed about what she needed to do.
Until she was discharged, she didn't see Timothy again.
Both seemed to be avoiding each other.
Yet through Zola, she kept hearing of exotic ingredients Timothy had flown in for her.
Their Facebook messages were nothing but transfers and receipts.
She'd planned to rest for a week, but stayed two.
On the day she was discharged, she finally sent him a message.
Elizabeth: [Mr. Robinson, thank you for all your help these past weeks. I truly appreciate it.]
Timothy had just finished surgery and was weary as he went to buy coffee.
He sat in the café, saw her message, and sipped his drink with a lazy glance at the screen.
A waitress stole a look at him by the window, cheeks flushing.
Timothy was striking, his elegance touched with an edge.
He paid for his coffee and stepped outside, calling Zola.
"Mr. Robinson, I'm heading back to Sovereign City today," she said. "Don't mind me saying this, but if you like Ms. Penrose, you should say so. Young people shouldn't keep quiet."
Timothy lit a cigarette, the smoke curling between his long fingers. His smile was faint. "We're just relatives."
Zola gave an awkward laugh.
So they were family.
Elizabeth left the hospital and went to the Windward Hotel to check out, sending her luggage back to Emerald Park.
She returned to find Bronte had also been hospitalized, due to be discharged tomorrow.
Her mind went to the deal with Armando.
Without unpacking, she headed to Bronte's ward.
Mindy and Beatrix were already there.
Mindy scoffed. "Grandma's been in the hospital all this time, and you're only showing up now?"
Beatrix's brow creased slightly. "Mindy, don't disturb her rest. Go home."
Beatrix was Armando and Mindy's mother.
She was always impeccably poised, but her gaze toward Elizabeth held a quiet superiority.
Seeing Beatrix made Elizabeth think of Timothy.
She offered a cool greeting.
Once, she'd gone out of her way to please Beatrix for Armando's sake, eager to impress.
Now there was no need.
Bronte chided Mindy. "Armando said Elizabeth was away on business. Be gentle. Don't be so harsh on people."
Mindy mimed zipping her lips, blinking innocently.
Inside, she bristled. Was Bronte blind? Elizabeth was an outsider and still had shares in the Johnson Group, and Bronte treated her well.
"Elizabeth, come sit with me. You've just come back from your trip. Rest well. I'll be home tomorrow."