Chapter 50
On the lawn, Althea’s body convulsed violently. Blood was streaming from her eyes, nose, and mouth, and her feet had twisted into unnatural angles.
Mr. Quigley and the others came onto the grass just in time to witness this harrowing scene. The shock of it left them all with complicated feelings.
Lindsay was the first to react, pulling out her phone and dialing for an ambulance. The paramedics arrived within ten minutes, swiftly lifting Althea onto a stretcher, fitting her with an oxygen mask. Her pulse was dangerously weak, so the doctor administered an injection to stimulate her heart.
“I’ll go with her,” Lindsay said, glancing at Yves. “You all must be exhausted, especially you. You just woke up and you’re still recovering. Go get some rest; I’ll be back soon.”
Two hours of tense confrontation had drained Yves of nearly all his strength. He knew he needed to rest, but he couldn’t help but worry about Lindsay. In the end, he arranged for two bodyguards to accompany her as well.
By the time Althea reached the hospital, she had already lost consciousness. The doctors rushed her into the emergency room, the red light above the door flickering on as her family and friends waited anxiously outside.
The bodyguards, afraid they’d be blamed, quickly came to Lindsay, eager to explain what had happened on the rooftop.
“Ms. Nelson, we didn’t push her. She jumped on her own.”
From the moment Althea had run up those stairs, ignoring all reason, Lindsay had already guessed how things would end.
“I know it wasn’t your fault. You won’t be held responsible.”
Relief washed over the two men.
Lindsay pulled out her phone and tried calling York, but the call connected and then cut off. She had no idea what he was up to. With no other choice, she tried Lester—Althea’s life hung in the balance, and someone needed to be told, no matter what.
But there was no answer from Lester either.
Meanwhile, in a luxury apartment across town, warm golden light filled the bedroom. On the king-sized bed, two bodies tangled together, slick with sweat, breathless and urgent.
After about ten minutes, their fevered embrace finally subsided.
Lester lay sprawled atop Naomi, both of them drenched and sticky from exertion. Naomi gave him a playful shove, her voice a soft, teasing complaint. “Lester, come on, let’s take a shower. This is unbearable.”
He kissed her forehead, reluctant to part, but finally rolled off and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom. Water thundered in the shower, soon mingling with Naomi’s delighted laughter and breathy moans.
Eventually, Lester wrapped her in a robe and carried her back to bed, where they lay nestled together, lost in each other’s warmth.
Suddenly, Lester’s cellphone buzzed again on the nightstand.
Irritated, he snatched it up. When he saw the number flashing on the screen, the annoyance he’d just calmed down flared up all over again. He declined the call and tossed the phone aside. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs.net
“Who was that? Why are you so angry?” Naomi asked, resting her head on Lester’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest, her touch a silent invitation.
Lester caught her wandering hand and lowered his voice. “Easy, don’t tease.”
The more he tried to restrain her, the more mischievous Naomi became. With a quick movement, she straddled him, making him grunt, his features tightening with a mixture of restraint and desire.
“Then tell me who keeps calling?”
“Lindsay. God knows what she wants. She’s called half a dozen times already.” Naomi’s lips curled in a cold, knowing smile. “Maybe she wants to win you back?” After all, Lindsay had always loved Lester. Naomi doubted she could ever really care for Yves.
“Who cares? I don’t feel a thing for her.” He said it with a shrug, but the thought of Lindsay calling again and again to plead with him stirred something inside.
Maybe, if she was this desperate, he could use her to deal with Yves once and for
all.