Amanda didn't sleep long before drifting awake. As she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Quentin's chin, shadowed with a rough stubble.
She tried to sit up as gently as possible, but the slight movement was enough to wake him.
"Are you awake?"
His voice was hoarse from exhaustion, yet it held that deep, magnetic quality that always made her heart skip. He reached out, tenderly brushing the stray bangs away from her ear.
Amanda smiled softly. "Why didn't you go home to sleep instead of running all the way here?"
Quentin sat up straight, stretching his stiff muscles. "You were here," he replied simply. "I wanted to look in on both of you."
Amanda pouted slightly. "I'm not a child, Quentin. You should sleep a little longer while I go out and buy us some breakfast."
Truly drained from the corporate battles of the previous days, Quentin didn't argue. He simply nodded, leaned back against the chair, and closed his eyes.
Amanda took a moment to check on the elder Mr. Harris. Seeing that he was still peacefully asleep, she slipped into the bathroom to wash her face, then grabbed her bag and headed out.
After a thirty-minute walk, Amanda returned to the hospital to find Butler Wayne pacing restlessly outside the VIP suite.
"Wayne? What happened? Is everything okay?"
Seeing her, the butler's face lit up with a joyous, tearful smile. "Mistress! The Chairman... he's awake! He's inside talking to the Young Master right now!"
"Really!"
Tears of relief pricked Amanda's eyes. She looked at the closed door but stayed where she was, wanting to give the father and son their moment of privacy.
Inside the room, Quentin sat by the bed, his head bowed. "Dad... I'm sorry."
Elder Harris glanced at him with difficulty, let out a weak snort, and grumbled, "What are you apologizing for, you rotten boy?"
Hearing the familiar scold brought a smile to Quentin's face. It had been far too long since he'd heard that sharp tone; he had truly missed it. "If Dad still has the strength to scold me, then I can finally rest easy."
Mr. Harris breathed deeply, the ventilator helping him find his steady rhythm. "You little devil. In the future, whatever you're planning, let me know in advance so this old man can prepare himself mentally, alright?"
Quentin reached for a glass of water to help his father drink. "Why would I tell you in advance? I'd miss out on the lectures."
Mr. Harris rolled his eyes. "So you're just seeking revenge by trying to skyrocket my blood pressure?"
Quentin set the glass back on the table, his expression turning solemn. "Dad... your blood pressure wasn't the problem. You were being poisoned."
The old man's gray-white brows furrowed, and his breathing hitched. Quentin leaned in, worried. "Dad? Are you okay?"
Mr. Harris took a shaky breath and waved a hand dismissively. "I'm fine... just shocked. I didn't expect Javier to go this far..."
Quentin hadn't named the culprit, but a man who had survived at the top of the food chain for over half a century didn't need to be told. The Chairman closed his eyes, hiding the profound disappointment and pain swirling within them. "So that's how it is. This old man really is nearing the end of his time."
"Father," Quentin said, his voice dropping to a low, cold register. "From now on, I will no longer tolerate Javier."
Elder Harris sighed and looked at his son. "Now you're giving me advance notice? Well, let it be. It's up to fate now. I can't control him, and I don't want to try anymore."
The two talked for a long time before Amanda finally walked in. She approached the bed and took the old man's hand, her voice thick with emotion. "Dad, how are you feeling?"
Mr. Harris offered her a kind, weary smile. "Little Mandy, I'm okay. In a few days, once I'm out of here, you can take me fishing."
Amanda sniffed and beamed at him. "It's a deal. And I'll bring the fish soup I made for you to eat!"
"Yes... very good."
In the wake of his recovery, Mr. Harris made a formal announcement regarding his will. It was a crushing blow to Javier: he was left with zero percent of the company's shares. Furthermore, a strict order was placed on Dylan Harris's portion—after Dylan's passing, the assets could only be donated to charity or transferred to Quentin. Javier was legally barred from inheriting a single cent.
The news of the will shook the remaining "underground" supporters Javier had within the company. Javier himself was reportedly in a blind rage.
Once the storm had settled and Mr. Harris's health was stable, Quentin insisted Amanda return to her work. Trusting that the worst had passed, she returned to the film crew.
The shoot had moved to a remote mountainous region, requiring the crew to stay in a small motel in a nearby town. On set, Amanda completely transformed into her role. Dressed in tactical black with a face smeared with dirt, she lay flat on the forest floor. Her eyes were sharp and focused as she aimed her prop gun and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
She rolled behind a massive tree trunk, signaling to her two "comrades" nearby. As she moved to cover behind another trunk, an "enemy" spotted her and fired. The script called for her to be hit in the shoulder.
She gritted her teeth, crouching low, but the gun never wavered. She continued to return fire with lethal precision.
"Cut! Great job, everyone! Pack it up and get some rest; we'll resume later."
Director Chu's voice broke the tension. Amanda exhaled, her body finally relaxing as she stood up. She bowed politely to the crew. "Thank you, everyone. You've all worked so hard."
One of the actors laughed. "You're the one who worked hard! Now we just have to wait for Jasper to recover and get his scenes done, and we're wrapped!"
Amanda smiled brightly. "Yes! See you all in a month!"
This was her final solo scene for a while. In her excitement to finish, she hadn't noticed the bruising on her arm until Winter pointed it out later. Back at the motel, Winter began applying a healing ointment.
"Ow, ow! Take it easy, Winter!"
"Please, just bear with it for a second."
As they rode back, Amanda hissed in pain as Winter massaged the oil into her skin. Amanda pouted at her reflection. "It was the very last scene, and I still ended up with a bruise. My body looks like a jaguar with all these spots."
Winter finished with the ointment and pulled Amanda's sleeve back down, her expression deadpan. "It's not the same. Your skin tone is nothing like a jaguar's."
Amanda's lip twitched. "Are you quite finished, Winter?"
Winter blinked, trying to suppress a giggle, but Amanda reached out and playfully poked her forehead. "You little devil."