The company was in turmoil. Between the internal purge and his father's hospitalization, Quentin was forced to leave the house before dawn.
When Amanda woke to an empty bed, she didn't dwell on his absence. She went straight to the kitchen to prepare a light porridge, hoping to bring a bit of comfort to the hospital. Quentin had stationed five bodyguards outside the VIP suite, with strict orders to permit only Amanda, Butler Wayne, and the doctors inside.
Tiffany Harris had tried to cause another scene the previous night, but without Dylan to defend her or Javier to support her, she had eventually been forced to retreat in silence.
When Amanda arrived, the bodyguards recognized her immediately and opened the door. Inside, she found Butler Wayne gently wiping the elder Mr. Harris's skin with a damp cloth. Seeing the old man still in a coma, Amanda's heart grew heavy. She set the porridge on the table and spoke softly.
"I hoped Dad would be awake by now, so I brought some porridge. He's still... resting?"
Butler Wayne turned, offering a weary, comforting smile. "The mistress is very thoughtful. Thank you."
Amanda dipped a towel into a basin of warm water and wrung it out, taking over the task of cleaning Mr. Harris. The doctors had already identified the toxin and were beginning the detoxification process. Soon, she told herself, he would be back to his old self—laughing, joking, and filling the room with his presence.
As she gently wiped his arm, her eyes burned with unshed tears. She bit her lip, suppressing her emotions so Butler Wayne wouldn't see her falter.
At noon, a text message from Vance arrived. Amanda's expression shifted instantly. She stood up and spoke calmly to the butler.
"I have some business to attend to, so I'll be away for a few hours. Please go home and get some rest tonight, Wayne. I'll take the night shift and watch over Dad. You can return early tomorrow morning."
"Yes, Mistress," Wayne replied with a grateful nod.
Amanda left the hospital and drove to a secluded cafe. She stepped out of the car, the rhythmic click-clack of her high heels announcing her arrival as she walked inside. In a quiet corner, a man sat waiting. Amanda slid into the seat opposite him.
"Have you been waiting long?"
Surprise flashed in the man's eyes as he looked up. "It's you!"
Amanda offered a leisurely smile and set her bag aside. "What's the matter? Are you surprised to see me instead of my manager?"
The man pursed his lips, his expression turning cold and stiff. Amanda didn't take offense at his silence. Instead, she laughed softly. "Have you verified the information Vance gave you? You asked for this meeting—don't you have anything to say?"
The information she had leaked through Vance was a hook, and the results were exactly what she had expected. The man's face tightened. He looked her straight in the eye and asked, "What do you want?"
Amanda's smile vanished, replaced by an icy stare. "I want to know the location of Javier's next shipment."
The man's face drained of color. "How do you know about—" He cut himself off, realizing too late that his reaction was a silent admission that the shipment belonged to Javier.
Amanda's lips curled into a smirk. "So, are you going to tell me?"
The man looked deeply conflicted. Amanda knew that "picked green grapes aren't sweet"—she couldn't force a confession this early. She leaned back and softened her tone.
"Fine. I won't force you to betray your friend just yet. I'll give you a week to think it over. But there's one more thing..." She slid a check across the table toward him. "Take this. Use it to take care of your sister. From what I've heard, she doesn't have much time left."
The man's body trembled. Under the table, his fists were clenched so tightly that the veins stood out.
"You've been with Javier for a long time," Amanda continued. "You know exactly how many crimes he has committed. It's time for him to pay. When he falls—and he will fall—it won't end well for you. But if you turn around now, things could be different."
She stood up to leave, then paused, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "If that amount isn't enough, contact me. A few hundred million is nothing to me when it comes to protecting the people I love. Just like you, I do what I have to for my family."
The man bowed his head, his shoulders shaking in silence. Amanda knew her words had hit their mark.
By the time Amanda returned to the hospital, the sun had set. Mr. Harris was still unconscious. She sent Butler Wayne home and settled in for the long night.
Quentin didn't return that day. He called briefly, his voice raspy with fatigue, telling her to take care of herself. He had been working since dawn to stabilize the company and minimize the damage from the purge.
At the break of the next dawn, the hospital was eerily still. Quentin walked toward the VIP suite, where the bodyguards stepped aside to let him pass. He entered the room to find his father still peacefully asleep, and Amanda curled up in an uncomfortable position on the sofa.
He walked over quietly and sat down, gently lifting her so her head rested on his lap. Amanda stirred, a small frown creasing her brow, but as she caught the familiar scent of him, she relaxed and drifted back into a deeper sleep.
Quentin smiled tiredly, his hand rhythmic as he patted her back. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, finally allowing sleep to take him as the first rays of light touched the room.