"The last time I checked, I didn't ask you for a date. What are you doing here?" Desmond asked. "The last time I checked, you were not the owner of this restaurant. So you don't have the right to ask me why I'm here." She replied. "I may not be the owner, but this is my table, and I didn't invite you." Desmond countered, and she immediately replied, "Stop talking as if you are not happy I'm here." Desmond chuckled and shook his head before asking, “How did you even know I would be here?” “Because you usually come here on Fridays.” She answered and Desmond smirked slightly. “Not always,” he corrected. “But most times,” she countered, and he chuckled again, taking a sip of his wine before nodding slightly. “Fair enough. So, how is your father?” he asked. “He’s getting stronger.” She replied. “I came here to appreciate you personally. I wanted to thank you for saving him since I didn't do that yesterday.” “Okay,” he replied. “I’m happy I could help.” "So......how much do you wa
Desmond exhaled slowly, debating whether to even begin explaining. But the weight was too heavy to carry alone. “I was called to help someone in a hospital today,” he began. "It was a critical case—life or death.” He paused, and his mother’s eyes widened in surprise. “You? Called to a hospital?” He nodded. “Yes. And when I got there… I saw Anabel.” He said, and his mother’s expression faltered for a moment. “Anabel? Your ex-wife? What happened to her?” "Nothing happened to her. She was fine. Her father was the one sick." Desmond replied. "Her father? I thought she only had a mother. How come she has a sick father?" The mom asked. "That was what she told us, but she has a father. And the surprising part was that her father is Sir Orton. The CEO of Orton's group. She is a billionaire heiress, Mom." He said, and his mother froze. For a second, she didn’t react. She just stared at him, as if trying to process the words he had just spoken. “You mean… Anabel is Sir Orton’s daughter?”
Desmond gripped the steering wheel tightly as he made his way home. He had planned to go straight back to his company after leaving the hospital, but now, his mind was too clouded with questions and realizations. He needed time to process and a cool space to think. 'Anabel is a billionaire heiress?' The thought hit him again, settling heavily in his chest. His ex-wife was the only daughter of the richest man in the state. How had he never known? But why did she keep it from him for so long? His mind drifted back to the day she walked out of his house after signing the divorce papers. He remembered the way she left without a single penny. She didn't demand any compensation. She didn't even fight for assets. Rather, she told him that his money won't solve half of her bills. "I don't even need your money. It won't solve half of my problem. You can have it all." Those were the exact words she said. And then, she was gone. Taken away in a Rolls Royce. His mother and sister had moc
Anabel stepped back into the hospital room. Her thoughts were still clouded with frustration over Desmond’s abrupt departure. When she got inside the room, she couldn't see Jethro and her mother. Only Sylvester and the nurse were there. She frowned slightly and turned toward Sylvester. “Where are Jethro and my mom?” she asked. “They left with the doctor,” he casually replied. “Maybe they went to his office to talk more about your father's health. "Alright." She went and took a seat beside her father. The machine had been disconnected. Her father was now breathing freely without any support, which showed that Desmond did a very nice job. Sylvester studied her for a moment before speaking up again. “So, did you catch up to Desmond?” "No,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “He didn’t wait to talk to me. I was calling him, and he drove out with his car.” Sylvester chuckled lightly. “Of course I expected that from him. I know he won't do better." He said, shrugging. “Now that he’s sa
Sylvester's facial expression changed as he watched Anabel slip out of the hospital room. The moment she stepped past the doorway, something sharp coiled in his chest. A suffocating unease, the kind that clawed at his thoughts and refused to let go.What he was predicting was already unfolding right in front of him. Everything he had feared. Anabel was going after Desmond. Not in front of her family, not where emotions could be tempered by the presence of others, but privately. And that…that was dangerous. Because if this conversation led where he suspected it would. If she let herself soften even the slightest bit toward Desmond, all of his plans would crumble.Everything he had built. All his lies and manipulation. The money he had spent fabricating the surgery would be a waste.Sylvester swallowed hard and gazed back at the family. He had almost won. He had almost had her completely. But Desmond was about to change the game. Desmond had done what seemed impossible . And now, Anabe
Desmond couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Jethro,” he said with some trace of amusement, “I don’t need money. I don’t need anything. What I did, I did for myself.”"Don’t say that,” he insisted. “I’m happy, Desmond. My dad is alive because of you. You have to be appreciated.”Desmond offered another small smile, but there was something deeper in his gaze. Something unreadable. “I can’t ask for what I really want. You cannot give me what I want."Jethro blinked. He was confused by the response, unsure of what Desmond meant. “What do you mean? What is it that I cannot give you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.Sylvester, who was standing by the side, listening with silent interest, stiffened instantly. He knew. He knew exactly what Desmond meant. Desmond wanted Anabel back. And that was something Jethro couldn’t give him."No. I can't not let this happen. I had spent too much time and too much effort to have Anabel for myself. I haven't even gott
"No." The specialist interrupted. "He's still at fault. The nurse gave a testimony about you and he still insist because of pride. I have experience special people like you. People that are talented in a particular sickness." The specialist said and turned to the doctor. “This should teach you something. Without Desmond, Sir Orton would have died. If I hadn't given him permission, we would have lost him. And I would have failed.” He said and the doctor stiffened slightly, but nodded in understanding. "You are lucky my father didn't die." Jethro interjected. "Just count yourself lucky. If anything had happened to him, I swear I would have dealt with you. I would have made your life a miserable one." Dr. Maxwell remained silent, knowing there was no defense he could offer. The weight of his decision not to allow Desmond earlier was bearing down on him, and now, all he could do was silently accept the criticism. Jethro has more things to tell the doctor but he needed to talk to
Sylvester stood rigid in the hospital room. His jaw locked tightly as the relief-filled voices of Anabel’s family and others surrounded him. No one saw that coming. It just happened when all hope had gone. Lady Orton was crying with joy, Jethro was exhaling deep breaths of relief, and Anabel... She was just standing there, frozen in shock, looking at the man who had just saved her father’s life. That man was Desmond, his latest rival. Sylvester’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. He wasn’t happy. He couldn’t be. Not because Sir Orton had recovered. No, that wasn’t the problem at all. The problem was who was responsible for it. Desmond. The man who had been completely erased from Anabel’s life. The man she had walked away from. The man she was supposed to never consider again. Yet now, here he was. A hero. The person who had just pulled her father from the brink of death. Sylvester felt something deep and ugly twist in his chest. He was close. So close to sealing his grip on A
A fresh wave of silence swept through the room. Desmond straightened slightly, looking at the man who had just given him the impossible task. Anabel remained silent. She didn’t fight it this time. He was their only hope. Sylvester, for once, had nothing to say. Desmond walked up to Sir Orton’s bedside. The room was thick with anticipation. Every movement, every breath, and every second felt crucial. He bent slightly, studying Sir Orton’s face, assessing his pulse with precision. He wasn’t a doctor, but his experience and instinct could tell him everything he needed to know. His brows furrowed slightly as he pressed his fingers gently against a specific pressure point on the unconscious man's body. He checked his pulse and opened his eyes with his fingers. “I need a new filiform needle.” He requested. The nurse checked the ones she had brought, but the specialist had used all of them. "I'm coming." She said and rushed out to get it. Anabel stood frozen, watching Desmond with despe