Chapter 202
“Will you come down and join Be?”
The words left Irene’s lips before she could think twice. The night al carried her voice through the phone, making the simple question feel strangely intimate.
“Sure.” Adam’s response came quickly, his tone casual despite the filter in his chest.
It took him longer than expected to navigate the garden path. By the time his wheelchair reached the gazebo, Adam had cursed every bump and uneven stone. He’d thrown a jacket over spajamas in his rush to get downstairs, the chill night air prickling his skin.
Irene glanced up, her eyes widening at his thin clothes. Without a word, she jumped to her feet.
“Wait here,” she called over her shoulder, already heading toward the house.
Adam watched her silhouette disappear, wondering if he’d made a mistake coming down. When she reappeared, she carried a thick blanket and a glass of juice, her steps purposeful across the moonlit grass.
“You can only have this,” she said, placing the juice in his hand. She shook out the blanket with a practiced flick of hex wrists, then draped it across his legs. The casual intimacy of the gesture caught him off guard.
Adam felt ridiculous warmth bloom in his chest. Such a simple thing someone thinking about his comfort without being asked.
Irene dropped back into her seat, lifted her wine bottle, and clinked it against his juice glass before taking a long sip. The moonlight caught in her hair, turning the edges silver.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, his voice dropping to match the hushed garden.
Irene’s fingers tightened around her glass. Adam’s question–direct and genuinely concerned–hit a nerve. When was the last time
someone had asked her that and actually wanted the real answer?
She stared at the ripples in her wine, buying time.
“My mother–Rose–had a heart attack after I left yesterday.” Her voice stayed steady through sheer force of will. “She needs
surgery.”
Adam waited, sensing there was more.
“After everything she’s done–to me, to my kids–now she needs me to save her life.” Irene laughed, a sharp, hollow sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “Pretty rich, right?”
She traced the rim of her glass, gaze downcast. The confident surgeon had vanished, leaving a woman who looked tired of holding up her armor.
“Anna gets the royal treatment, and she doesn’t have a drop of Sterling blood. Meanwhile, I’m their actual daughter, and they treat me like I’m radioactive.” Her smile twisted. “Getting switched at birth wasn’t exactly my master plan, you know?”
Adam’s hand twitched toward her before settling back on his armrest He’d never seen this raw version of Irene before–vulnerability peeling away her usual defenses.
“The Sterlings never accepted me. Not once.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. “Rose–my birth mother–she’d criticize everything I did, blame me for things I never did…” Her voice caught. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m lying to myself when I say I don’t
care.”
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Chapter 202
The tight line of her jaw gave her away. This woman who patched u strangers without breaking a sweat was struggling to hold herself together.
I do care. That’s the worst part I kept trying to prove myself worthy of their attention. Irene lifted her face, moonlight catching the gleam in her eyes. “And now Rose might die.”
Her eyes reddened at the edges. Adam gripped his armrest, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms.
“Damn it!” Irene’s voice cracked. ‘Why should I even care? She never wanted me as a daughter. Why should I use everything I’ve learned to save her life?”
She grabbed the wine bottle and took a direct swig. Adam nearly reached out to stop her but held back, his fingers digging into the wheelchair padding.
“You’re not wrong for hesitating,” he said quietly. “You don’t owe the Sterlings anything. If anything, they owe you. Nobody has the right to judge you if you walk away. They threw the first punch. Why should you be the one to make peace?”
The night fell silent around them. Adam wondered if she’d even heard him until he caught her staring, eyes wide with surprise.
“Didn know you had the comforting people thing down,” she said, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.
Something in her expression made his mouth curve upward as he sipped his juice.
“You’ve got a point,” Irene admitted. “I don’t need to feel guilty. I’m not obligated to be the bigger person. I’m not a saint.”
Their conversation drifted, the heavy moment passing like clouds across the moon. Irene had emptied half the bottle when she reached to pour another glass.
Adam caught her wrist mid–air. “That’s enough. Your tolerance is basically non–existent.” His voice carried a hint of amusement. “If you pass out, I can’t exactly fireman–carry you inside.”
The warmth of his hand against her skin stalled Irene’s thoughts. Adam’s ears turned pink as memories of her drunken night at Hayes Estate flooded back.
“Relax,” Irene laughed, the sound lighter than before. “I took something before drinking. I won’t get wasted.”
Despite her confidence, her words had already begun to slur at the edges, her expression softer than usual.
She stood too quickly, and the world tilted. “Whoa-”
Irene stumbled sideways. Adam lunged to catch her, grabbing her arm. Instead of steadying herself, she tumbled directly onto his lap, half sprawled across the wheelchair.
“Oh!” she gasped, her surprised eyes meeting his.
They froze, suddenly aware of how close they were. Her breath tickled his collarbone, warm and wine–scented. Adam hadn’t touched a drop, but his head spun as if he’d downed the entire bottle himself as his gaze fixed on her wine–stained lips.
Something electric pulsed between them–not quite desire, not merely comfort, but something undefined that made her fingers tighten against the fabric of his clothes. Time seemed to slow as Adam leaned forward slightly, drawn by a force he couldn’t name.
A deliberate cough broke through the garden’s silence.
They both turned to find Joseph standing at the gazebo entrance, leaning heavily on his cane. Adam didn’t loosen his protective hold on Irene, despite the older man’s obvious disapproval.
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“What’s happened to her?” Joseph asked, his tone carefully neutral.
“She’s had some wine. Bit tipsy, Adam explained simply.
Joseph made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “This child!” he muttered.
“James,” Joseph called toward the house. “Help her upstairs.”
Adam carefully shifted Irene to her feet, his movements gentle as James appeared to support her. He handed over the wine bottle without comment.
to claim
Joseph turned to follow them but paused, circling back to claim Irene’s vacated seat.
“She knows about Rose?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes.” The remnants of warmth from Irene’s body were already fading from Adam’s skin.
Joseph’s shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. “That girl acts tough, but she feels everything too deeply–especially family stuff. He shook his head. “Her own family treats her like she’s nothing, worse than a stranger.”
The old man stared at the empty wine glass Irene had left behind. “The Sterlings owe her everything, and now they need the one person they threw away.” His weathered fingers tightened around his cane. “Sometimes I wonder who’s really the patient here.”
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