Adrian remembered his flight scheduled for that afternoon. He needed to confront Joelle and inquire why Rafael was with her. But as he awoke, night had already fallen.
His assistant approached, relief evident in his tone. âThank goodness, Mr. Miller, youâve come around. Miss Lloyd has been crying for hours.â
Adrian furrowed his brow. âHow did she find out?â The assistant hesitated. âLyla visited earlier, in tears, asking for you. Since you were still out, Miss Lloyd met with her instead.â
Lylaâs unexpected appearance suggested she was aware of Quincyâs predicament under Adrianâs control. Adrian felt a grim satisfaction. He had anticipated potential issues and was prepared.
âWhereâs Rebecca?â he asked.
âShe felt unwell, so I arranged for her to rest in the adjacent room.â
Adrianâs response was firm. âIn the future, ensure she doesnât act on my behalf. Sheâs not authorized to make decisions for me.â
The assistant was momentarily puzzled. Wasnât Rebecca close to Adrian? Working for someone as unpredictable as Adrian was like walking on eggshells.
Not long ago, he had been indifferent to his wife, and now he was planning to fly abroad to find her.
âMr. Miller, youâve missed your flight, and there are no more departures tonight.â
Adrian merely grunted in acknowledgment.
A faint, tearful voice interrupted from the doorway. âAdie.â
Rebecca appeared, clinging to the doorframe, her eyes swollen with tears. She hurried over, collapsing onto the bed. âAdie, I was so scared! I had a terrible dream that you wouldnât wake up. What would we do without you?â
Her approach was bold, yet Adrian, recognizing her genuine concern, did not rebuke her.
âIâm alright now,â he reassured her.
Rebecca, tears cascading down her cheeks, managed to say, âBut you lost so much blood.â
Wanting to shift away from the conversation, Adrian turned to his assistant. âBook the next flight out for tomorrow.â
The assistant confirmed with a nod. âYes, Mr. Miller.â
Rebecca dabbed at her eyes. âAdie, are you planning to leave? Youâve barely recovered.â
âItâs none of your business. You should head home.â Though reluctant, Rebecca understood his tone left no room for argument. She exited, her gaze lingering on him with each step. She chose to be obedient, leaving his room with frequent backward glances.
Once she was gone, the assistant received a call, then turned to Adrian. âMr. Miller, Lyla is downstairs asking to see you.â
Adrian exhaled deeply, laboring to rise from his chair. âLet her come.â This matter wasnât over yet. He was keen to see how Lyla would navigate the predicament.
Dressing quickly, he moved to the adjacent reception room, his demeanor composed. Lyla, astute as ever, was trying to gauge the extent of Adrianâs injuries to predict the potential fallout. If it wasnât too serious, things might not escalate too far.
âAdrian, I implore you, Quincy has lost his senses. Please, could you find it in your heart to forgive him?â Upon entering, Lyla knelt abruptly. Had they been alone, Lyla might not have resorted to such dramatics, but with the assistant present, she gambled on appealing to Adrianâs sense of decorum to prevent her humiliation.
However, both Adrian and his assistant remained indifferent to her display. Adrian, sipping his coffee leisurely, responded without looking at her, âIf you prefer to kneel during our conversation, thatâs up to you.â
Flushed with embarrassment, Lyla used the coffee table to push herself to her feet and took a seat across from him. She asked, âAdrian, how have I treated you over the years?â
âNot poorly.â
Encouraged, she pressed, âThen, considering that, canât you spare your uncle?â
âNo,â Adrian interjected sharply. âHe plotted against my life. How can I simply forgive and forget?â Lylaâs hope dwindled. She grasped her handkerchief, tears welling up. âIâm so embarrassed by Quincyâs actions, I can barely face you. But he is still your uncle, my husband, the father of your cousin. Adrian, even criminals are offered opportunities for redemption. Canât our family strive to reconcile?â
The tension was palpable, a distinct crack echoed faintly in the silence that followed. The cup in Adrianâs hand shattered, the ceramic pieces scattering across the floor.
Lyla, momentarily stunned, stared at him, her tears halting. âYes, weâre family. So why canât we just get along? Youâve done so much behind the scenes. Do I need to list it all?â
Lyla tried to defend herself, but Adrian didnât give her a chance to speak. âYouâre right, even criminals are given a chance to reform. So why shouldnât my uncle get the same opportunity?â Hope flickered in Lylaâs eyes as she stood, a tentative smile forming. âYou mean youâre willing to forgive him?â
Adrian reclined into the sofa, a cold sneer playing on his lips. âWhat I mean is, letâs first establish him as a criminal, then he can seek redemption from the law.â Lylaâs face, which showed signs of cosmetic enhancements, contorted into a grimace of dismay and disbelief.
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