Home / Romance / My Best Friend’s Brother Is My Professor—And He Wants Me / Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

All Chapters of My Best Friend’s Brother Is My Professor—And He Wants Me: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

208 Chapters

161

Killian Davenport I drive toward Mr. Banks's office with both hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.The city moves around us in its usual rhythm with cars pushing through intersections and pedestrians crowding the sidewalks including horns sounding somewhere ahead of us, but none of it really reaches me.My mind is somewhere else.Back in Kyle's office.Back on that document.Killian Davenport. Successor.A document prepared almost a year ago. Before I came back. Before anyone could have known for certain that I would return to New York. Before, according to everything I had been told, my father was supposedly dying.The timing is too perfect. Ian sits in the passenger seat, his laptop open against his thighs. He has barely said anything since we left the office.I appreciate the silence.There are too many thoughts fighting for space in my head already. One of them keeps coming back. It involves me wanting to tell Ronald about everything he discovered so far. God, I

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Killian Davenport"I wasn't asked to prepare a document for Kyle.""Why?""I don't know."I look at Ian. He watches Banks carefully. I turn back."Did my father tell you I was coming back?"Banks hesitates. "Yes."My stomach twists."When?""Around the time he asked me to prepare the document.""So he knew.""He seemed certain.""Certain?""Very."I stare at him. "How?"Banks shakes his head. "I don't know.""Did he tell you how he knew?""No.""Did he say he had spoken to me?""No.""Did I tell him I was coming back?""No.""Did anyone?""No."I laugh once.There is nothing funny about it. "I had been gone for seven years." Banks says nothing. "I had no plans to return.""I understand.""No, you don't."My voice drops. "If my father hadn't been dying, I wouldn't have come back."Banks looks down.I can feel something cold spreading through my chest. The pieces are starting to fit. And I don't like the picture they're creating."The timing is wild," I say quietly.Banks doesn't re

163

Elena Carson By the time I get home, my feet hurt.Not badly.Just enough to remind me that I have spent most of the day sitting in an examination hall, walking across campus, standing around waiting for a cab, and then sitting through another two hours with my father.I unlock the apartment door and push it open.The familiar smell of Nora's cooking reaches me before I even see her. I close the door behind me and drop my bag onto the small table beside the entrance."You're home."I look toward the kitchen.Nora is standing by the stove, wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts, her hair tied into a messy bun. She has one hand wrapped around a wooden spoon and the other resting against her hip."Obviously."She narrows her eyes."Where were you?"I slip my shoes off. "Out.""That is not an answer.""It technically is.""Elena."I laugh softly as I walk toward the kitchen. "I saw Philip."The spoon in her hand stops moving."You what?""I saw Philip.""When?""After my exam."She

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Killian Davenport By the time I arrive at the office, I have already gone over the same questions in my head so many times that I am beginning to hate the sound of my own thoughts.Why would my father do it?Why sabotage Kyle when he could have simply told him he wasn’t ready to inherit the company? Why spend years positioning one son to fail while preparing the other to take over? And why prepare succession documents naming me before I had any intention of returning to New York?None of it makes sense.Or perhaps it makes too much sense, and I simply don’t want to admit what that means.I step out of the elevator and loosen my tie as I walk toward my office. The morning sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the glass buildings across the street. Employees greet me as I pass. I acknowledge them with brief nods, barely registering their words.I have other things on my mind.Banks’s confession keeps replaying in my head.Your father never wanted Kyle to inhe

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Killian Davenport I lean back in my chair and run a hand over my face. “Don’t call me baby when you’re sitting in a medical room after injuring yourself.”“Why? Does it make the cut worse?”“You’re enjoying this.”“A little.”I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile tugging at my mouth.God, I’ve missed her.I’ve spent the entire morning trapped inside my own head, turning over ugly possibilities and imagining conversations I haven’t had yet. And now this girl is sitting in a school sickbay, laughing at me because she managed to injure herself with a pencil sharpener.Somehow, she’s the first thing today that has made me feel like myself.“How did you even manage that?” I ask.“I was sharpening a pencil.”“I gathered that.”“And I was in a hurry.”“To do what?”“Study.”I close my eyes briefly.“Of course.”“Don’t start.”“You’re supposed to be studying, not bleeding on stationery.”She laughs so hard she has to lower her phone.I watch her shoulders shake, and despite myself, I l

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Killian Davenport I barely have time to get out of the car before the building doors open. She comes running toward me in tiny shorts, a loose blouse, and a pair of Crocs. Her hair is tied back carelessly, and she looks so comfortable that I have to fight the urge to pull her straight into my arms and keep her there. She doesn’t give me time to do anything. She throws herself at me. I catch her around the waist, laughing as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Hello to you too.” She buries her face against my shoulder. “I missed you.” I tighten my arms around her. “I missed you too.” She pulls back enough to look at me then smiles and hugs me again. I press my mouth to her hair, breathing her in. Whatever has been happening inside my head all day, whatever ugly truths might be waiting for me at that hospital, none of it feels quite as loud with her in my arms. I finally pull back and look at her. “Why didn’t you ask me to come upstairs?” She blinks. “Becaus

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Killian Davenport The hospital smells of antiseptic and something faintly medicinal that settles at the back of my throat the moment I step through the entrance.I check my watch as I walk past the reception desk. Six thirty-seven.Ian is already waiting near the elevators, his phone in one hand and a thin brown folder tucked beneath his arm. He looks up when he sees me, slipping his phone into his pocket before straightening.“You’re late.”“Seven minutes.”“Seven minutes is late.”“Then you should consider yourself fortunate I came at all.”He gives me a look. “You’ve been in a lovely mood all day.”I ignore him and glance around the lobby. People move in every direction, some in hospital gowns, others accompanied by family members who look as exhausted as the patients they have come to see. A little boy sits on one of the chairs near the reception desk, swinging his legs while his mother speaks quietly to a nurse. Somewhere down the corridor, a telephone rings repeatedly before

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Killian Davenport “I was involved in his care.”“That wasn’t my question.”A muscle moves in his jaw. He looks down at the papers Ian has placed on the desk, then toward the computer, as though the answers might be waiting somewhere beyond the screen.“I would need to check the dates.”Ian opens the folder and slides a copy of the report across the desk.“Your name is printed here, Doctor. The report states that you personally examined Derek Davenport and concluded that he had an advanced, terminal malignancy. It specifies a prognosis of six to eight months. Yet the hospital’s appointment records show no diagnostic procedure under your name on that date.”Dr. Mercer studies the page without touching it.“I see.”“Do you?” I ask.He lifts his gaze to mine, and I see the first clear sign of discomfort.“Mr. Davenport, I can assure you that I would never knowingly give a patient inaccurate medical information.”“I haven’t accused you of that. I’m asking whether you examined my father.”

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Killian Davenport I put the phone away before I can be tempted to call her. I don’t want to bring her into this until I understand what is happening. She has three exams left, and she deserves to get through them without carrying the weight of my family’s secrets on her shoulders.Ian returns with two cups of coffee, handing me one despite my refusal.“Drink it,” he says. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”“I’m considering it.”“Could you at least wait until we’ve finished questioning the medical staff? I’d prefer not to explain a homicide to the police tonight.”I take the cup.The coffee is bitter and too hot, but I drink it anyway.We wait nearly forty minutes.During that time, Ian makes a few calls and checks the information he has collected. I make none. I sit with my elbows resting on my knees, staring at the floor and replaying the conversation with Dr. Mercer.He hadn’t looked surprised by the report.He had looked afraid of it.There is a difference, and I ha

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Killian Davenport The same period in which the succession documents were prepared. The same period in which Derek apparently decided that Kyle was unfit to inherit the company. My pulse begins to beat harder. “What did he want?” “He told me he needed a medical report confirming that his condition was terminal. He said the findings had already been established elsewhere and that the report was required for personal reasons.” “Personal reasons?” “That was all he told me.” “And you simply agreed?” Dr. Whitmore flinches at the contempt in my voice. “No. I questioned him. I told him that I could not issue a diagnosis without appropriate medical evidence. He insisted that the matter had been approved at the highest level and that the relevant findings would be supplied through the proper channels.” “Did he supply them?” “Not in the way they should have been.” I stare at him. “And you still signed the report.” His eyes drop. “Yes.” The answer is so quiet I almost

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