Chapter 15: At Wesley's Mercy

Caroline's POV

I felt the warmth of Anderson’s arms as he lifted me from the hospital bed.

My body ached, and my head pounded with every slight movement, but I trusted him to carry me.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers brushing against the collar of his shirt.

His grip was steady, comforting, and I pressed myself closer to his chest as he moved through the hospital corridor.

The evening air hit my body as we stepped outside, but it wasn’t the relief I’d hoped for.

A chaotic noise erupted around us, reporters.

They were already waiting for us, a swarm of voices and flashing cameras closed in on us.

Somehow, they’d found out where we were.

My stomach churned, and I squeezed my eyes tighter, lacking the strength to face their prying questions.

I buried my face in Anderson’s shoulder, wishing I could disappear.

The reporters didn’t relent. Their voices sharpened, shouting over each other, microphones jabbing toward us. “Mr. Jones, is it true that you're a cheater?” “Is Miss Caroline pregnant?” “What’s your statement?”

Anderson didn’t flinch. He ignored them completely, his strides were purposeful as he pushed through the crowd.

I felt the car door open, the leather seat cool against my back as he set me down gently.

The door slammed shut, cutting off the noise like a soundproof room.

Moments later, the engine kicked to life, and we were moving.

The reporters faded behind us, and exhaustion pulled me tight.

I didn’t fight it, I let myself drift into sleep.

When I opened my eyes, the car had stopped.

Anderson’s house towered outside the window.

I blinked, feeling a flicker of energy return.

My limbs didn’t feel as heavy as it was, and the fog in my mind had lifted slightly.

Anderson opened my door, extending a hand to help me out.

“I can walk,” I said. I didn’t want to be carried again, not this time.

He didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped back, giving me space.

I swung my legs out of the car, gripping the door frame for support as I stood.

My knees wobbled, but I steadied myself, taking a slow, deliberate step forward.

 Anderson stayed close as we walked toward the house.

The silence between us felt heavy, so I broke it.

 “When are we going for the meeting?” My voice was still low, barely above a whisper.

Anderson glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “The meeting is today, but we’re not going to the meeting.”

I stopped mid-step, turning to face him. “Why?”

His lips curved into a faint, confident smile. “Because instead of going to the meeting, the meeting is coming to us.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confusion knitting my brows together.

“See for yourself,” he said, pushing the front door open.

The sight inside stole my breath.

The parlor was packed with people. Family members filled every corner, some I recognized from the first meeting, others complete strangers.

Their eyes darted toward us as we stepped inside, their cold stares made me nauseous.

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, my pulse racing.

Anderson must have noticed because his hand found mine.

He didn’t let go as he led me forward.

The room had been rearranged.

The furniture was rearranged like a makeshift hall, chairs lined up to accommodate the crowd.

My gaze swept the space, landing on Mrs. Jones at the front.

Her face looked very serious, her eyes sharp and piercing.

 I froze under her stare, my breath catching. She was angry, I could feel it radiating from her.

Unable to hold her gaze, I dropped my eyes to the floor, my cheeks burning.

Anderson tugged me gently, guiding me to the front.

Mrs. Jones motioned for us to sit, and I sank into the chair beside Anderson, my hands trembling in my lap.

The room fell silent, the air thick with anticipation.

Everyone was waiting for her to speak, and so was I, dreading every word.

“How is she doing?” Mrs. Jones asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Anderson answered for me. “She’s fine, just a mild concussion.”

I swallowed again, my mouth dry. That wasn’t the opening I’d prepared myself for. I knew the real blow was coming, and I wasn’t wrong.

“You have put our family’s name in jeopardy,” she began, her tone cold. “The both of you.”

My hands started shaking harder. I gripped the arms of my chair, my knuckles whitening as I tried to steady myself.

“For many years, the name Jones was held in high honor,” she continued, her voice rising slightly. “But in less than one hour, you have brought that honor down like a crash-landed plane.”

The words stung, and I kept my eyes on the floor, unable to face her, or anyone else.

Shame coiled in my chest, tightening with every breath.

“You have also put our company’s name in jeopardy,” she said, her attention shifting to Anderson, “by beating up someone who recently got appointed as a director in a company that happens to be our biggest shareholder.”

My head snapped up, my eyes widening in surprise.

What was she talking about? I met her gaze for a fleeting moment before looking at Anderson.

He looked just as stunned.

“Wesley?” he said, his voice barely audible.

Mrs. Jones didn’t flinch. “Yes, him. Wesley Tonks. He’s the new director of Velvet Rose Holdings.”

The name of the company tugged at a memory, but I couldn’t place it. My mind was still too foggy and Mrs Jones voice snapped me back to the present.

“If Velvet Holdings pulls out from our company, we’ll suffer great loss and might eventually go bankrupt.”

Gasps rippled through the room, the other family members exchanging worried glances.

My stomach dropped, the weight of her words sinking in. This was bigger than I’d realized, much bigger.

“I didn’t know, mum,” Anderson said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Jones raised a hand, silencing him. “If you hadn’t acted impulsively, perhaps the issue would have been resolved easily.”

Anderson bowed his head, and I followed suit, staring at my lap. The shame was suffocating now, pressing down on me from all sides.

“With this attitude of yours,” she said, her voice like ice, “I should rule you out of being heir to this family.”

I felt Anderson tense beside me, his body rigid.

The room was quiet, the other family members holding their breath.

I could barely breathe myself, the tension wrapping around my chest was too much.

“But,” Mrs. Jones added, her tone shifting slightly, “I will give you a chance to redeem yourself, Anderson.”

My heart stuttered. A chance, however slim, was better than nothing.

“If during the stakeholders’ meeting, Velvet Holdings doesn’t pull out, then you still have a chance of becoming the heir,” she said. “But if they do pull out, you’ll never become heir. Never.”

Anderson nodded, his jaw tight. It was an unlikely possibility, the odds of getting Wesley to cooperate was 0.5%.

Then Mrs. Jones turned to me, and my breath caught in my throat.

The air felt hot, burning in my nostrils as her eyes locked onto mine.

“Caroline,” she said, “I know I have approved your marriage with my son, but now—”

She paused, and the silence made my heart race.

My hands clenched tighter, nails digging into my palms. Was she going to call it off?