Chapter 175
Andrew's POV
The tension in the hospital corridor was thick enough to cut with a knife. I watched the Morrisons' faces shift from arrogance to unease as I let my words sink in slowly. Time to end this charade.
I reached into my wallet and pulled out a thick stack of cash, letting the bills flutter down at their feet like confetti.
"This is what you get," I said, my voice carrying the authority honed by years of boardroom battles. "Necessary expenses, nothing more. Take it or leave it with nothing."
Their mouths fell open as they stared at the scattered bills. The husband's face went from flushed to pale.
I pulled out my business card—the one with Wilson Holdings' gold embossed logo—and threw it down with the cash. "Wilson Holdings. Feel free to contact me for further discussion anytime."
The atmosphere changed instantly. The woman bent down with trembling hands to pick up my card. When she saw the company name, her eyes widened.
"Wilson Holdings..." she whispered, then looked up at me with something close to fear in her eyes. "You're..."
"That's right." I adjusted my cufflinks, enjoying their obvious panic. "Now, can we end this charade?"
"Sir, we... we didn't realize..." The man who had been so confident moments ago was now stammering. "Perhaps we were too hasty..."
The woman nodded frantically. "Blake can be... difficult to manage. Maybe this was just boys being boys..."
Pathetic. I'd seen this transformation countless times. Money doesn't just talk—it rewrites entire personalities.
"That's more like it," I said calmly. "Now, I think you owe these people an apology."
They practically tripped over themselves apologizing to Julie and Harry. I let them grovel for a moment, then gestured to cut them off.
"We're done here." I turned to the hospital administrator who had been hovering nearby. "Make sure the children get the best care. Send the bills to my office."
Then I placed my hand on Julie's shoulder. "Let's go."
As we walked away, I could hear the Morrisons behind us, their voices now worried and uncertain. Good. Let them sweat.
In the hospital rest area.
"How are Harry's grades?" I turned to ask Julie.
Julie blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "He's... he's excellent. Straight A's in everything."
"Perfect. Harry's transferring to the best private school in Aetheria. Better education, better opportunities."
"Why are you doing this?"
I leaned back in my chair, feeling more relaxed than I had all day. "Doing what?"
"Helping us."
I was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "The kid has principles. That's rare." I glanced at Harry, who was getting his bandages changed by a nurse. "Besides, he can repay me when he grows up."
I saw something complex flicker in her eyes, unreadable emotion.
Harry walked over. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson."
I found myself patting his shoulder. When was the last time someone needed me for something good?
The Morrisons approached hesitantly, obviously wanting to smooth things over. The man cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could discuss this more... amicably?"
I didn't even look at them.
"Come on," I said to Julie and Harry. "Let's get out of here."
Twenty minutes later, we were checking into a nearby hotel. I didn't hesitate to book two luxury suites—one for Julie and Harry, one for myself.
"You don't have to do this," Julie protested as the concierge led us to our rooms.
"I don't want to drive anymore today," I said simply. "Besides, Harry needs rest, and you need time to process everything that happened today."
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Julie's POV
I watched Andrew transform from the arrogant man I thought I knew into... someone different. The way he handled the Morrisons, his protection of Harry, even the gentle way he treated my brother—none of it fit my image of Andrew Wilson.
This is dangerous, I thought. This is exactly how he controls people.
But I couldn't shake the image of him standing up to those people, or the way he looked when he talked to Harry.
Later that evening, I found myself standing outside Andrew's suite.
I knocked, and when he opened the door, he was wearing only a hotel towel around his waist. His chest was broader than I'd imagined, with what looked like an old scar across his ribs.
My gaze immediately fell to his chest, then quickly looked away, my cheeks burning.
"Like what you see?" he teased.
"Put some clothes on," I said firmly.
"You're the one who came to my room." But he reached for the hotel's silk robe anyway, pulling it on. "These hotel robes are terrible quality," he muttered. "Didn't bring a change of clothes."
"About Harry's transfer..." I began.
Andrew was already pulling out his phone. "Already handled." He showed me the email on his screen. "Best private school in the city. I know people on the alumni board."
I stared at the email. "This is... this is in Aetheria."
"Starport's too small," he said dismissively. "Better opportunities there. You can visit him anytime."
"You really thought this through."
"You can't help someone halfway," he said simply.
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.
"Julie."
I looked back. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, suddenly looking very uncertain.
"My shoulder's killing me. Could you..." he made a vague gesture. "Just for a few minutes?"
I hesitated. "I don't think that's appropriate."
"Consider it repayment," he said, lying face down on the sofa. "I said I wouldn't touch you, and I won't. Even if you wanted to be my woman, I'd find it too much trouble."
Charming as always. But there was something almost vulnerable about the way he said it.
I moved behind the sofa and placed my hands on his shoulders through the silk robe. His muscles were solid but knotted with tension.
"I hate pain most of all," he gasped when I pressed too hard.
"Sorry." I immediately lightened my touch.
I could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric, could sense him trying to relax under my touch. There was something strangely intimate about it—not entirely sexual, but personal in a way that made me nervous.
About six minutes later, he suddenly spoke. "Thank you for today, too."
I stopped my movements. "For what?"
"Thank you for not treating me like a bastard and being defensive today."
He said it so quietly I almost didn't hear. "You're not that much of a bastard," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure I meant it.
"How did I do today?" he asked. "On a scale of one to ten?"
"You were pretty... reliable," I admitted.
Then he turned over, the silk robe falling slightly open at the collar, revealing his collarbone. When I met his eyes, something had changed in them. The usual calculating look was gone, replaced by something almost... young.
For just that moment, looking at him lying there without his usual armor of arrogance and control, I could almost forget what Andrew Wilson really was.
I shook my head, dismissing these thoughts.
"It's getting late, I'm tired. I'm going back now."
No matter what Andrew said next, I left without looking back.