Chapter 320

This time, Andrew Lane’s anger was plain as day. Maybe approaching from Isabella Austin’s side would yield better results.
Mr. Green forced a smile and turned to Isabella. “Ms. Austin, it’s been a while. You’re looking lovelier than ever.”
He was so eager to find an opening that he completely missed the way Isabella’s expression stiffened.
Isabella managed a polite smile, glanced at Andrew, and said quietly, “Well, we should get going.”
In a rush of desperation, Mr. Green blurted, “I heard the good news- congratulations are in order, I suppose? Will I have the honor of attending your engagement party?”
Isabella opened her mouth to reply, but Andrew cut her off. “Isabella, let’s go.”
She bit back her response, nodded with a gentle smile, and answered softly, “Alright.”
All trace of Mr. Green’s smile vanished.
ײ
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily Blair caught Andrew’s hand tightening around the handles of her wheelchair. She spoke up, “It’s alright, I can manage.”
She placed her hands on the wheels and tried to propel herself forward, gripping the rims for leverage.
Before she could make any real effort, Andrew brushed her hands aside.
His voice drifted from behind, lazy and cold. “What are you trying to prove?” Without giving her a chance to protest, he simply started pushing her wheelchair. Emily rested her hands on her lap, fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans.
Her ankle was still injured; there was no way she could win an argument with Andrew right now. She might as well let him play chauffeur-it saved her the trouble, anyway.
Still, the scent from behind-Andrew’s crisp cologne mixed with Isabella’s sweet, alluring perfume—lingered in the air, surrounding her.
Expressionless, Emily thought to herself that she really didn’t want to breathe in that
scent.
So, she shut her eyes and pretended to know nothing at all.
Mr. Green watched them go with a look of utter defeat, his face darkening as the group disappeared down the hall.
The woman by his side looked stricken and wronged.
She knew she must have made a mistake somewhere, but she couldn’t understand —why should she have to grovel to that man, even agree to such outrageous demands?
Clutching her son’s hand, her voice trembled as she asked, “Uncle, who is he, really?”
She stared after Mr. Green as he stood in silence, confusion mounting.
“Uncle, we don’t have to bow our heads. How could you expect me to go through with something so humiliating? You’re the hospital director! Cleaning the floors by hand is beneath you. There’s no need to agree to this, and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Worst case, we make a scene and find out who really loses face-him or us.”
Mr. Green said nothing, his back rigid with tension. The more she spoke, the more indignant she became, her brows knitting with righteous anger, as though she’d suffered some grave injustice.
“And besides, even if Mr. Lane is some big shot, his sister was still wrong to hurt Carson. She should have to pay for that. Carson is your nephew, and I’m his mother. We should be on his side.”
Suddenly, Mr. Green spoke, his voice low. “Tell me the truth. What actually happened? Was Mr. Lane’s sister right-did your son run over and bump into her, knocking over the kettle himself?”
The little boy shrank behind his mother, frightened. “Mom
The woman’s face grew uneasy; her eyes darted. “It’s—it’s like I said. That… that
Mr. Lane’s sister poured hot water on Carson-”
Mr. Green’s face darkened. His voice turned sharp. “Tell the truth!”
She stammered, “I… I