Chapter 275
Brinley tore through three red lights on her way to Moore Group headquarters, her pulse racing faster than the car itself. From a distance, she spotted Miguel standing anxiously outside the revolving glass doors, his posture betraying the weight of his worry.
The moment she pulled up, she thrust her keys at the valet and strode over, urgency in every step. “How is Austin? Has he gotten any better?”
Miguel bowed his head as he fell into step beside her. “He drank some water and looks a little steadier, but he’s too weak to speak. This is on me. I noticed during the afternoon briefing that he didn’t look well, but when he brushed it off, I let it go. I should’ve insisted on the hospital.”
Brinley shot him a sharp look as they hurried inside. “You’ve been with him for years, Miguel. You know how serious his stomach issues are. Do you have any idea how much pain he must be in right now?”
Miguel pressed his lips together in silence, feeling a sting of injustice at her rebuke—especially since Austin was faking his discomfort.
As they stepped into the lobby, Brinley faltered for an instant.
A glittering chandelier cascaded light from the vaulted ceiling, scattering across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Employees moved with precise efficiency, suits crisp, shoes clicking in a steady rhythm.
Only then did Brinley realize this was her first glimpse into Austin’s empire.
Her eyes lifted toward the soaring ceiling. “Moore Group is… this big?” she murmured, half to herself.
“Sixty-eight floors. All ours,” Miguel said with quiet pride, then quickly gestured ahead. “Elevator’s this way—straight to the top.”
At the reception desk, curious eyes tracked her every move.
They had heard whispers that Austin was deeply in love with his wife, but none of them had seen her until now. And now that they had, they couldn’t look away.
Brinley’s beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just her face. There was a commanding elegance in the way she carried herself, a quiet fire that drew attention without her needing to say a word.
“No wonder she caught Mr. Moore’s eye,” one receptionist breathed.
“Looks aside, she’s impressive in her own right. Owns a company, races professionally. Together, they’re almost too perfect.”
The murmurs drifted through the air, but Brinley dismissed them without a flicker of acknowledgment.
Her mind was already upstairs—solely on Austin.
The elevator carried them swiftly to the top floor.
As they approached, Miguel reached for the CEO’s office door, already ajar, but Brinley caught his hand.
She steadied herself with a breath, then pushed it open herself.
Her heart lurched.
Inside, Austin reclined on the sofa, his brow knotted in pain, one hand pressed to his stomach, his skin pale as parchment.
“Austin!” She rushed forward, dropping to her knees at his side, her voice shaking. “Talk to me—how bad is it?”
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