Chapter 65

Sean POV

The elevator descended to the parking garage. I caught my reflection in its brass walls - disheveled hair, loosened tie, a face I barely recognized. The events of the night had taken their toll.

I'd chosen to leave the penthouse temporarily, hoping to give Angela some space to cool down.

Our argument was getting nowhere, and the last thing I wanted was to wake Grandmother Elizabeth with our fighting. She needed her rest, not the stress of mediating another conflict between us.

I strode toward my Bentley, each footstep echoing against concrete in the dim garage.

My phone felt like lead in my hand, Angela's name still illuminated on the screen from my last failed attempt to reach her.

Three missed calls. Seven unread messages. Her silence spoke volumes.

Inside the car, I sat motionless, staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. The leather seat creaked softly as I reached for my cigarette case-a habit I'd supposedly quit years ago.

The flame from my lighter briefly illuminated the space around me, and I watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling.

I wasn't trying to blame her, I thought, taking a long drag. I just wanted to know she was safe.

But it seemed she had misunderstood me. No matter how I tried to explain, she refused to listen.

The events at Christopher's mansion kept replaying in my mind: the commotion in the garden, Christina's injury, Angela's stony expression as I carried Christina to the car. Everything had spiraled so quickly, like a carefully choreographed dance gone terribly wrong.

After making sure Christina's injury wasn't serious, I rushed back home immediately. I needed to know Angela was alright too.

But as soon as I stepped into our building's lobby, I stopped dead in my tracks. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Christopher's Mercedes pulling up outside.

Angela was with him, stepping out of his car with a bright smile on her face. They were chatting and laughing together, as if the chaos from earlier tonight had nothing to do with them.

The sight hit me harder than I expected - while I'd been worried sick about her, she was perfectly fine, enjoying Christopher's company.

She can smile like that for others, I thought bitterly, but she can't even stand my touch anymore. The cigarette ash fell onto my tailored pants, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

My phone buzzed, Christina's name lighting up the screen. Her voice came through weak and trembling: "Sean... where are you? I'm so scared being alone, and the wound is bleeding again..."

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. The doctor's words echoed in my mind-possible concussion, need for observation. And it had happened because of...

I cut off that thought before it could fully form. Starting the engine, I tried to push away the image of Angela's smile at Christopher.

Christina needed help now. Questions about Angela would have to wait.

I had just arrived at the hospital when I heard a woman's voice raised in argument with Michael.

"I asked for strawberries, not cherries!" she was shouting.

"The strawberries are sold out," Michael replied, his voice ice cold.

"Then can't you just go to another store?"

"Mr. Shaw asked me to look after Miss Christina, but I'm not your servant!"

I pushed open the ward door. "Keep it down," I snapped. "Christina needs rest."

The woman fell silent instantly. When I got a better look, I recognized Jennifer - the same one who had falsely accused Angela earlier. My irritation deepened.

"Why are you still here?" I asked Jennifer coldly. "Haven't you caused enough trouble today? Who are you trying to pick a fight with now?"

"Sean!" Jennifer immediately turned to complain. "Your employee can't even do something as simple as buying strawberries! What kind of service is this?"

"That's right," another woman chimed in, her designer dress and perfectly manicured nails speaking of old money and entitlement. "If you can't even manage such a basic task, how can we trust you to look after Christina properly?"

My jaw tightened. "Since when," I asked coldly, "do my employees take orders from anyone but me?"

"Sean!" Christina's voice, soft and pained, drew my attention. She stood in the doorway of her private room, barefoot and swaying slightly. The white bandage around her head made her look especially vulnerable. "I'm so sorry... I heard Michael was upset, and I wanted to apologize to everyone."

I moved quickly to steady her, noting how she seemed to lean into my touch just a fraction more than necessary.

"You shouldn't be out of bed,"

"I know," Christina's voice trembled. "I just... I feel terrible about everything. Are you angry with me?"

Seeing her in such a vulnerable state, I softened my tone to comfort her. I guided her back to her bed, aware of the eyes watching our every move.

"How could I ever be angry with you?"

Christina's hand found mine, her touch light but insistent. "Thank you for coming back," she whispered. "I was so scared, and you're the only one who..."

"You should rest," I cut her off, gently but firmly extracting my hand. "I'll have the nurse check on you."

In the hallway, I turned to Michael. "Make sure Jennifer and the others leave. Then go home. It's late."

"Of course, Mr. Shaw." Michael's tone was perfectly professional, but there was something in his eyes-disapproval? judgment?-that made my skin prickle. "Will you be returning to the office tomorrow morning, or should I reschedule your meetings?"

"I'll be there," I replied shortly, already heading for the elevator.

"Sean, are you leaving?" Christina's tearful voice echoed behind me.