Chapter 165
The car glided through traffic, en island of calm after the storm at the hospital garage, Irene gazed out the window, her thoughts nowhere near the passing scenery. That confrontation with Rose hadipped open wounds she’d thought were long patched up.
She turned slightly toward Adam, something clearly on her mind. The words formed and died on her lips. Whatever she wanted to say remained locked behind those walls she’d built so carefully.
Adam caught her look. The question in his mind was simple: How could someone like Trene–cool, proud, undeniably brilliant- possibly be the person Rose described? A top surgeon who handled the most complex cases with steady hands. Nothing about her screamed ‘disgraceful woman” the way her mother painted.
Their eyes met briefly before she looked away. Though she kept it together, that coldness hadn’t completely left her face.
He got it. Seeing that look, worry nudged at him. Getting humiliated in public was bad enough. Getting it from your own mother? That hit different.
The car pulled up at the restaurant. Irene took a deep breath, visibly hitting reset, deciding to shelve the drama–at least temporarily.
“Let’s grab lunch,” Adam said quietly. “Those test results were promising. Worth celebrating, don’t you think?”
They arrived at a French restaurant Adam had booked in advance. Soft lighting and tasteful decor created a bubble of calm–worlds away from the hospital’s chaos.
Thomas wheeled Adam inside, but as a server approached, he stepped back with a practiced smile.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, already backing toward the door. “I’ll be around.”
Adam nodded. Thomas had perfected the art of the timely exit.
Irene barely reacted, offering only a slight nod. A quiet meal sounded perfect after everything.
They were seated by the window. The server adjusted Adam’s position without making a fuss. Soft jazz played in the background, gradually melting away the tension from earlier.
Irene opened her menu, her shoulders gradually dropping from their tense position. That shadow in her eyes began to fade as she focused on something normal, something pleasant.
“Thanks for earlier,” she said suddenly, not looking up from the menu. “With Rose, I mean.”
Adam watched her, surprised by the unexpected acknowledgment.
“Nothing to thank me for,” he replied simply. “She was out of line.”
Irene nodded, seeming to appreciate that he didn’t make a big deal of it. She picked several light dishes–her appetite still recovering from her recent fever.
After ordering, Adam leaned forward slightly. “Their foie gras is killer. Got one for you too. You should try it.”
Irene’s lips curved upward. “Since you’re recommending it, I definitely have to try it.” The tension in her face eased further, replaced by something warmer.
The server brought wine, pouring a glass for Irene before turning to Adam with a raised eyebrow.
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Irene took a small sip, closing her eyes briefly as the flavor hit. When she opened them again, she seemed almost like a different person–the doctor, the mother, the fierce protector momentarily replaced by just… Irene.
Adam found himself enjoying this version of her. Relaxed. Unguarded Different from both the clinical professional and the defensive woman he’d first met.
He shook his head at the offered wine. “Still on meds. Can’t drink.”
tyrant.”
glanced at Irene with the hint of a smile. “My doctor’s a
“Good.” Irene raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Following doctor’s orders is key. Nice to see my patient learning.”
They slipped into easy conversation about his results and next steps. The earlier tension dissolved completely between bites of perfectly prepared food, replaced by a comfortable rhythm that felt surprisingly natural to them both.
Just as Irene was about to taste the foie gras, a familiar voice cut through their peace.
“Adam? And Dr. Sterling? What a coincidence!”
Irene looked up to see Samantha approaching, designer bag in hand, looking like she’d just dashed from some important meeting.
Irene shot Adam a quick glance, then shrugged and set down her fork. Though she’d barely interacted with Samantha, she remembered those hostile looks from that night at Adam’s.
Samantha beamed, oozing enthusiasm. “I was meeting an investor here, but they canceled last minute. Was just leaving when spotted you two! This place really is one of the best in Silver City.”
She appeared genuinely surprised, but the truth was far different. She’d learned about Adam’s lunch plans through his mother. The original plan: “accidentally” run into Adam alone. Finding Irene with him threw her completely. Why is SHE here? The thought burned beneath her perfect smile. How dare this woman–with three kids from nowhere–have a private lunch with Adam?
Samantha smoothed her expression and turned to Adam, voice honey sweet. “Mind if I join you? Haven’t had lunch yet.” Her tone carried absolute certainty–after all, their families went way back. How could he refuse?
Adam set down his water, his expression cooling. His appetite vanished completely, even for the foie gras he’d been looking forward to. After the hospital tests and that mess with Rose, his social battery was completely drained.
“I would mind,” he replied flatly. “We’re discussing private matters. Not suitable for outsiders.”
The word “outsiders” hit Samantha like a slap. Since childhood, she’d been groomed as Adam’s perfect match, with both families practically planning their wedding. Being publicly labeled an “outsider” by Adam himself nearly shattered her carefully crafted
smile.
Irene found Adam’s bluntness surprising but kept her face neutral. She sipped her wine, remembering how Samantha had once mentioned growing up with Adam. She hadn’t expected him to shut down a family friend so completely.
Samantha bit her lip, eyes briefly glistening before she pulled herself together. The perfect mask slipped back into place so quickly it was almost frightening.
“Actually,” she said, her voice dropping to a silky tone that instantly set off warning bells in Irene’s head, “I have something quite important to discuss with Dr. Sterling.” Behind her back, her nails dug into her palm hard enough to leave crescent–shaped marks.
Adam’s eyes narrowed a subtle shift that most wouldn’t notice. What game was Samantha playing now? Someone in the Wright family suddenly need medical help, or was this something else entirely?
Irene caught the calculated gleam in Samantha’s eyes–a look she recognized from years of navigating the social minefields of medical politics. Their last encounter had been frigid at best. This sudden desire for conversation wasn’t just suspicious; it felt like
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walking toward a trap with eyes wide open.
She placed her napkin beside lier plate, the perfect lunch now hovering on the edge of becoming something much less pleasant. The way Samantha emphasized “Dr. Sterling” carried an undercurrent that made Irene’s instincts flare to life.
Whatever Samantha was about to say, Irene was certain of one thing it wasn’t going to be a friendly chat about the weather.
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