Chapter 225
Sammy Dauuy s Billionaire Empire
Henry, grab his stuff, would yo?” Irene nodded toward the scattered belongings.
“I’ve got it.” Wesley’s voice rasped as he pushed himself up. His complexion rivaled the hotel sheets, but stubbornness kept him upright as he shuffled toward the bathroom, trailing fingertips along the wall for balance.
Brandon chewed his lip, watching his brother disappear. “Level with me,” he murmured once the water started running. “Is he really that bad off? Could he actually…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
My little brother’s been dying in silence while I’ve been collecting trophies and chasing thrills. What kind of person does that make me?
“Worse than I initially thought, Irene said, not sugarcoating it. “Two years minimum of his brain basically screaming 24/7. Regular meds might as well be candy at this point.”
Adam’s wheelchair shifted slightly. “Your schedule’s already packed,” he said, voice low enough that only she caught it. “Three intensive cases back–to–back…”
She looked ready to collapse after just my first session. This is a whole different level.
“He’s in rougher shape than both of you combined,” Irene admitted, fucking a stray hair behind her ear. “But I’ll make it work.”
Wesley’s life fit into one sad duffel. They split between cars for the drive back–Irene naturally sliding into the seat beside Adam while Wesley rode with his brother.
Joseph stood framed in the doorway at Emerald Garden, shoulders square until he spotted the dried blood on Wesley’s forehead. The composure crumbled from his face like old plaster.
“Dear God,” he breathed, taking an involuntary step forward.
The triplets materialized from nowhere, heads tilted in unified curiosity.
“Why’s Uncle Wesley all bloody?” Lily asked, wide–eyed.
Alex pushed his glasses up. “Those look like impact wounds. Mom will fix him though.”
“Jeez, he looks even worse than last time.” Lucas scrunched his nose. Makes Uncle Brandon look downright–healthy.”
As Irene laid out Wesley’s condition, Joseph seemed to age before her eyes each word adding another invisible weight.
One grandson shattered in a racecar. Another trapped in pain. Now the third’s brain is eating itself alive. How much more can we bear?
“Can you help him?” The question barely made it past the knot in Joseph’s throat.
A
Irene squeezed his weathered hand. “I can. And I will.” The promise felt heavier than her medical bag. “We start now.”
For you, Joseph. Not for the Sterling name. For you.
Brandon clapped a hand on his brother’s bony shoulder. “You’re in good hands. She’s basically a miracle worker.” Wesley didn’t respond, but for one, he didn’t flinch away either.
The guest room transformed into a makeshift clinic within the hour rene dabbed antiseptic on Wesley’s forehead before arranging her equipment with practiced precision.
“Fair warning–this hurts like hell,” she said, snapping on gloves. “But it’s the only way through.”
1/3
Chapter 225
Wesley eyed the electrodes and
gave a barely perceptible nod.
Two years of specialists and their promises. Two years of disappointment. Why should this be any different?
Irene’s fingers moved along his neck and temples, her frown deepening. “Got it. There’s pressure building up right here.” She tapped a spot at the base of his skull. “Everyone’s been treating the wrong thing. No wonder nothing’s worked.”
Something flickered in Wesley’s dead eyes–the ghost of hope.
The first electrode bit into his skin like a hot needle. His body froze up, teeth clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. This pain felt different–sharper but somehow more focused.
This isn’t like before. This cuts through the fog. Maybe… maybe this time…
Two brutal hours later, Wesley lay unconscious. Irene’s hands trembled as she packed up her equipment, exhaustion etched into the lines around her eyes
Never seen anyone hold it together through that level of treatment. Most scream, cry, beg me to stop. He didn’t make a sound.
The dining room smelled like heaven when she finally dragged herself downstairs. The table looked like a holiday spread rather than a random weekday lunch.
“First round’s done,” she announced, dropping into a chair. “He’s out cold. It’s bad, but not hopeless.”
Joseph’s exhale sounded like a prayer. Brandon just stabbed at his plate, muttering, “Stubborn little shit better pull through.”
“Adam had the kitchen go all out,” Joseph explained, gesturing at the feast.
Adam ladled steaming soup into a bowl and slid it in front of her. “Eat first, rest after.” The instruction sounded casual, but his eyes missed nothing–the slight shake in her hands, the pallor beneath her tan.
The kids swarmed her like tiny waiters.
“Mom needs protein,” Lily announced, piling chicken onto her plate with solemn concentration.
Two o’clock found Irene coming downstairs, surprised to see Adam still in the living room, papers scattered on the coffee table.
Shouldn’t he be running a corporate empire or something?
“Working from home today?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Adam glanced up. “Waiting for you,” he said, like that explained everything.
“Feeling off?” frene frowned; suddenly concerned.
His eyes caught hers. “I’m fine. You’re the one who looks ready to collapse. Wesley took a lot out of you.”
“Just the usual tired.” She sank onto the couch beside him. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
Adam pushed a cup toward her. “Drink this. Had it specially prepared–helps with recovery.”
“Thanks.” She wrapped her fingers around the warmth, taking a cautious sip. When she looked up, Adam was watching her with an intensity that made her pulse skip. Not his usual analytical gaze, but something warmer, more focused. Like she was a puzzle he’d finally figured out but couldn’t stop admiring.
2/3
Chapter 225
Time seemed to slow down. Trene had to look away first, her heart doing a weird little skip in her chest.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Adam murmured. His hand covered hers, adjusting her grip on the cup. The touch was brief and practical, yet somehow lingered on her skin ng after he withdrew.
Irene stared at her hand, heat climbing her neck that had nothing to do with the
When did he start looking at me like that? When did his voice get that extra note when he says my name?
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The quiet between them felt different now, filled with things neither one was saying. Sunlight spilled across the floor, warming the room. Irene caught herself thinking about the man beside her in a new light–not as someone to heal, not as a family friend, but simply as Adam.
