Chapter 301: I Need You—John Does Too

Chapter 301: I Need You—John Does Too

Joshua was sharp enough to quickly grasp that Andrew had no desire to speak with him.

For someone like Andrew—a man who'd spent his entire life wrapped in pride—having his reputation shattered across Emerald City, then fleeing to Eldoria to hide in some obscure corner where no one could witness his disgrace... it all made perfect sense.

Joshua lowered his gaze and hummed in acknowledgment. As long as Andrew was safe, that was all that mattered. "Tell him I'll handle the corporation's affairs. He should focus on resting."

"Will do." Sophia was about to hang up when Andrew suddenly gestured to her. She froze for a moment, then quickly decoded his meaning and relayed it to Joshua: "He wants you to contact Victor."

"Victor?" The name rang a bell. Joshua mulled it over before recalling—Andrew's former secretary. "Got it. Sophia, please take care of Andrew."

"I will." Sophia's gaze lingered on Andrew's face, weighted with meaning. "He's family too."

Andrew went still. Then his lashes lowered as the corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly.

After the call ended, Sophia set down her phone and asked, "You're not planning to come back to Emerald City with me?"

Andrew turned his face away, dodging her burning stare. "What's the point? I can't help you with anything. I'd only distract you. Staying here is fine—no one knows who I am."

"I've hired someone to take over as CEO in my place." Under Andrew's disbelieving gaze, Sophia continued, "Until we deal with Jane, none of us will have peace. I need you. John does too."

Andrew's lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line.

After a long silence, he raised his hand. The amber prayer bracelet slid from his palm down to his wrist.

"I can go back with you," he said at last, his voice low and hollow, like wind echoing through a cellar. "But I have two conditions."

"Name them." Sophia's response came swiftly. He could state his terms all he wanted—whether she'd actually honor them was another matter entirely.

Returning to Emerald City wasn't optional. Not after seeing the conditions he'd been living in.

Andrew saw right through her, but didn't particularly care. He laid out his demands slowly: "First—seal off all information about my return. Including your trip to Eldoria. Your friends, Joshua—no one can know."

Sophia nodded. "Done."

"Second—" His gaze dropped to the faint pink mark ringing her wrist. "You don't see John again."

The room fell deathly quiet. Sophia's breathing hitched.

One condition to protect her from the damage to his reputation. The other to protect her from John's violence.

Both for her sake.

"Fine." She answered breezily, her expression making it abundantly clear she hadn't actually absorbed a word. "Whatever you say."

Andrew's eyes narrowed, a thread of danger tightening in his gaze.

Internally, though, he thought—

Even when she's being a brat, she's adorable...

"Alright, get some sleep." Sophia reached behind him and yanked away the support pillow, easing him down. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

"I don't." Andrew's features hardened. He hated being treated like an invalid.

He pulled the blanket over himself, turned onto his side, and presented his back to Sophia.

Sophia sighed in exasperation.

Fine. I'll tolerate you for two more days.

 

Out in the living room, Nate sat hunched over his notebook, lost in thought.

No matter which angle he examined the sandplay assessment from, the results still failed to reveal the root cause of Andrew's condition.

"Any progress?" Sophia emerged from the bedroom carrying a tray and settled directly beside Nate.

Nate shook his head, brow deeply furrowed, and slid the notebook toward her. "Based on the sandplay results, he harbors profound resentment toward the Smith family—but there's no trace of what's triggering his bloodlust. I suspect he's deliberately concealing something."

"He's not." Sophia's certainty was absolute. "If he agreed to cooperate with treatment, he'll tell the truth."

Someone as arrogant as Andrew wouldn't stoop to deception.

Nate frowned, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "There's a psychological phenomenon called 'selective amnesia'—a defense mechanism where individuals consciously forget unpleasant or traumatic memories to reduce emotional burden."

If Andrew wasn't hiding anything, then perhaps the trigger for his condition had been so overwhelming that his mind had buried it entirely.

"In a way, selective amnesia can be... merciful," Nate sighed, removing his glasses to massage his temples. "Take you, for instance. If you'd forgotten that trauma instead of developing PTSD, you'd have been spared years of psychological torment."

"But..." Sophia's gaze dropped as she carefully weighed her words. "What if the fragment he's forgotten happens to be Jane's Achilles' heel? Your sister's death, Marcus's injuries, John's suffering—can we really afford to let those go unavenged?"

Nate clenched his jaw. Of course he didn't want his sister's "suicide" to remain an unsolved mystery.

But as Sophia's friend, viewing this from her perspective—she probably wouldn't want Andrew reliving that anguish.

"We could use hypnotherapy to access the memories he's sealed away. But if that event turned him into a 'bloodthirsty monster,' the trauma must have been severe. Are you really prepared to make him remember?" Nate's tone was heavy with concern. Even he felt reluctant.

"It devastated him at ten years old. But Andrew at thirty-three? He's more than capable of facing it." Sophia's voice was measured, though she caught herself. "Let's ask him tomorrow."

"No need to wait." Michael suddenly spoke up, tilting his head toward something behind Sophia.

She turned to find Andrew standing in the bedroom doorway.

"Treat it." His voice was low and gravelly, as if scraped across coarse sandpaper. "I promised you. Whatever the illness is—I'll face it."

Nate recovered first, uncapping his pen to jot down notes. "I'll develop a gradual treatment plan as soon as possible. In the meantime, you need adequate sleep and minimal mental strain."

"Understood." Andrew moved slowly toward the stunned Sophia. His right hand began to rise, then froze mid-air in a rigid arc, knuckles whitening with restraint.

His fingertips hovered just above her hair, curling inward at the last moment as if burned by invisible flame.

These hands had once commanded boardrooms with ruthless precision. Now they couldn't even disturb a single strand of her hair.

His palm trembled above her head, rising and falling with her shallow breaths, measuring a distance that might never be crossed.

Sophia seemed to understand the turmoil churning in his eyes. She straightened slightly, letting the crown of her head brush his palm.

The instant he felt her hair, his breath stopped. His touch was feather-light, as if afraid of shattering a fragile dream.

Yet his fingertips lingered greedily for one extra second, brushing ever so gently—stealing warmth that didn't belong to him.

Twenty-three years. For the first time, he'd touched his sister's head the way a brother should.