Chapter 92
The cab ride home from Silver City Private Medical Center was quiet Irene gazed out the window, her mind still on that moment with Brandon–when his eyes had registered who she really was, a secret exchange that went right over everyone else’s heads.
Joseph broke the comfortable silence between them. “Your second bther sees things clearly,” he said, satisfaction warming his weathered voice. “Not like the others. He recognizes your worth.”
Irene turned to find her grandfather watching her, his expression soened with relief–as if Brandon’s unexpected warmth had lifted some burden from his shoulders.
“Hmm.” Irene’s response was noncommittal. “He probably just figured out I’m the doctor, so now he’s being nicer.”
Though her voice stayed casual, inside she felt much less generous. Brandon had spent most of his life overseas; they’d barely met. Yes, his attitude today was better than the rest of the Sterling clan, but she wasn’t about to mistake basic decency for genuine family affection. Nobody understood Sterling coldness better than she did–she’d felt it firsthand when they’d thrown her away without a second thought.
A bitter smile touched her lips. If she hadn’t been the famous Dr. Joy–if she couldn’t save Brandon’s racing career–would he still have shown her that warmth? Doubtful. People like the Sterlings only valued what benefited them. Everything was a transaction, even family ties.
Still, there was something about Brandon that seemed more genuine than the others. Maybe it was his years away from the family’s toxic bubble, or perhaps racers just saw life differently when they regularly faced death at 200 miles per hour. Whatever it was, she couldn’t deny a tiny spark of curiosity about this brother she barely knew.
Joseph caught the subtle shift in her expression and sighed gently, letting the subject drop. Some wounds ran too deep for simple reassurances, and his granddaughter had earned her skepticism the hard way.
The cab turned into Emerald Garden Estate, the security guard waving them through immediately. As they pulled up to their villa, Irene spotted movement next door–Adam’s front door opening as Thomas wheeled him outside.
They exchanged quick nods of greeting across the driveways.
“Been to the hospital again today?” Adam asked.
Irene nodded, taking in his perfect formal wear–so different from his usual at–home clothes. The crisp lines of his tailored suit highlighted his broad shoulders, but what caught her eye was the tension in his jaw and a seriousness that wasn’t typically there during their evening treatments. Whatever was happening at Haven Enterprise today wasn’t routine.
“Heading out?” she asked. It was rare to see him leaving the villa, especially dressed so formally.
“Some company stuff needs handling,” Adam confirmed, sitting perfectly straight in his wheelchair. “Family dinner tonight too. I’ll probably be back quite late.”
The slight tightening around his eyes said plenty. After Victor’s recent power grab with the overseas investments, any Haven family gathering would be a minefield of politics and hidden motives. That board meeting had clearly been just the opening move in a longer game.
Irene’s eyes swept over him, automatically checking for signs of tiredness or discomfort. “Today’s treatment can’t be skipped, she reminded him, her voice naturally shifting to concerned doctor mode. “I can do it whenever you get back, no matter how late, but remember–no alcohol. She delivered the instruction firmly. “It’s not good for your condition right now. Will mess with your recovery.”
Adam’s lips curved into a slight smile, his typically guarded expression softening. “Don’t worry. I know my limits.”
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Chapter 92
Irene raised a skeptical eyebrow. “At a family dinner? Someone’s boul to make a toast. She shook her head. “If you can’t avoid it completely, just pretend to drink. Don’t actually swallow any.”
Adam nodded, appreciation flickering across his face at being so thoroughly understood. ‘I’ll follow doctor’s orders,” he assured her. After a brief pause, he asked, “What time do you think I should be back for treatment?
“You’re asking when I’ll be available?” Irene clarified. “I should be home all evening.”
Adam considered briefly before admitting, “I might be quite late. Had to say for sure when I’ll get away from the family dinner.”
He pictured the Haven family gathering waiting for him–that complicated dance of corporate politics disguised as a meal. His relatives were like a nest of vipers, each with their own agenda, every conversation loaded with hidden meanings. With so many family members to navigate, breaking away early would be practically impossible.
“No problem, I’ll wait up for you,” Irene responded without hesitation, her tone casual–as if waiting up for a patient was the most normal thing in the world. “Just knock on my door when you get back. With that, she turned and headed inside.
Thomas began pushing his employer toward the waiting car, a puzzled expression crossing his face. He couldn’t help noticing how comfortable their interaction had been–the easy back–and–forth, the natural concern, the complete lack of formality despite their relatively short acquaintance.
Dr. Sterling hasn’t been living here that long, has she? Thomas wondered. So why do they interact like a couple who’ve been married forever? The way they spoke–anticipating each other’s concerns, saying so much with so few words, the unspoken understanding between them–reminded him of his own parents after thirty years together.
The way she immediately noticed his boss’s tension, how she naturally offered to wait up without making it sound like a big deal, the small gestures showing genuine care rather than just professional obligation–all of it pointed to a connection neither seemed fully aware of yet.
Am I seeing things that aren’t there? he wondered as he helped Adam into the car. The shift from strictly professional to whatever this comfortable familiarity was had happened so gradually, Thomas couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it had changed.
As they pulled away from Emerald Garden Estate, Thomas glanced in the rearview mirror at his boss’s thoughtful expression. Adam was staring out the window, but Thomas would have bet his yearly bonus that the man’s thoughts were still with the conversation they’d just left behind.
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