Chapter 80
The Sterling family had taken over Brandon’s private hospital room like it was their personal stage. John maintained his usual stone–cold expression, though worry lines betrayed his true feelings Nathan stood by the window, clearly struggling between his disapproval of Brandon’s racing career and genuine concern for his brother. Anna hovered nearby, the picture of devoted concern, though her eyes darted occasionally to gauge the impact of her performance.
Only Joseph seemed genuinely calm, sitting quietly by Brandon’s bed with the kind of steady presence that came from actual love rather than family obligation.
“You came by yourself? Rose’s question had ehough edge to slice through steel.
Joseph’s eyes went arctic–cold. Irene came with me.”
Rose practically exploded. “Some sister she is! Her brother’s lying here with career–ending injuries, and she can’t even bother to walk through the door?” Her voice climbed higher with each word. And you still gave her those shares! Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!”
Brandon stared at the ceiling, trying to tune out the family drama. His racing career hung by a thread, dependent entirely on this mysterious Dr. Joy who’d examined him earlier. The doctor’s confidence had given him the first real hope since the accident, but right now, his family’s bickering was making his head pound worse than the injuries.
The atmosphere shifted instantly as Joseph’s expression hardened, his usual patience evaporating like water on hot asphalt. “You don’t know the first thing about this situation,” he snapped, patience clearly MIA. “So keep your opinions to yourself!”
His heart ached with secrets he couldn’t spill. If they only knew their scorned daughter was actually Dr. Joy, the miracle worker they were all banking on. The same woman they were trashing was already planning the surgery to save Brandon’s career. The irony was
enough to give anyone a migraine.
Rose’s face went from pink to red faster than a traffic light. “Don’t know? We’ve all seen exactly what she is! You’re the only one who can’t see through her act!” She was practically screaming now. “How could you give her company shares when she’s proven time and again what an ungrateful-”
The door swung open like something out of a movie, cutting Rose off mid–rant. Irene stood there looking like she’d just walked off a high–fashion runway, her presence instantly commanding everyone’s attention. The cold disdain in her eyes could’ve frozen hell
over.
“Newsflash – this is a hospital,” she said, voice sharp enough to perform surgery.
Brandon’s head snapped up at her voice, a sudden, unexpected feeling of familiarity washing over him. The tone, the commanding presence – it echoed his memory of Dr. Joy with unsettling similarity. But then he looked at Irene’s elegant figure, so different from Dr. Joy’s deliberately forgettable appearance, and doubt crept back in
Henry caught his eye, and Brandon could see the same confused recognition in his assistant’s face. They’d both spent an hour with Dr. Joy that morning, yet this woman….
“If you can’t use your indoor voice, maybe take it outside?” Irene continued, and again Brandon felt that jolt of recognition. The way she formed certain words, the slight edge in her tone when annoyed it was identical to Dr. Joy’s speech patterns.
Rose went from zero to nuclear in about half a second. “Who died and made you hospital police? This isn’t your private property!” She jabbed a finger at Irene like a weapon. “I’m just telling it like it is you’re nothing but an ungrateful-”
“Ungrateful?” Irene’s laugh could ve given penguins frostbite.
Brandon watched her hands as she spoke, noting how they moved with the same precise efficiency he’d observed in Dr. Joy. The similarities were piling up, but the differences in their appearances were so stark. Dr. Joy had seemed older, her body language more
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Chapter 80
contained, while Irene…
“That’s ENOUGH! Joseph’s voice boomed through the room like thunder. “This is a hospital room, not Jerry Springer! Take the drama outside – Brandon needs rest!”
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Anna stepped up, wearing her best perfect daughter” face. “I could help watch Brandon tonight, she offered in her sweetest voice Poor Henry must be exhausted. I’ve got plenty of free time- it’s the least I can do!”
As the family drama played out around him, Brandon kept stealing glances at Irene, cataloging each gesture, each expression. When she spoke to Joseph, her voice softened in exactly the same way Droy’s had when discussing his treatment options. The coincidence seemed too perfect, yet the transformation would have to be incredible to explain the difference in their appearances.
Rose did a complete 180, her rage melting into proud–mama mode. Oh, Anna! You absolute angel! She wrapped an arm around her adopted daughter like she was hugging a trophy. Now this is what a real daughter looks like – so thoughtful and caring!”
Irene watched the family drama unfold with practiced indifference, though Brandon noticed her subtly shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She’d been standing in the same spot for too long, perfectly still except for those slight adjustments – another detail that reminded him of Dr. Joy’s composed presence during their consultation.
As evening shadows lengthened across the room, she finally spoke up. “Grandfather, it’s getting late. Let’s head home – I can bring you back tomorrow if you want to check on things.”
Joseph nodded, giving Brandon one last concerned look. “Get some rest, kid. You’ll beat this.”
As she helped Joseph toward the door, Brandon watched her movements with heightened attention. Professional, efficient, exactly like… but no, it had to be coincidence. Didn’t it?
The question lingered long after she’d gone, mixing with the pain medication to keep him awake. Two women, so different yet so similar. Brandon had built his racing career on split–second instincts, and right now, those instincts were screaming that he was missing something obvious.
Henry caught his eye again, and Brandon could tell his assistant was wrestling with the same puzzle. They’d both sensed it – the strange parallel between the cold, professional Dr. Joy and the equally distant Irene. But neither could quite connect the dots, not yet.
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