Brandon’s POV
“Hospital,” I said, adjusting my cuffs. “Let’s go see Victoria.”
James nodded, pulling smoothly into traffic.
As we drove, I noticed a black sedan following three cars behind us, making the same turns we did. Amateur hour. My eyes narrowed slightly, and I glanced at James in the rearview mirror. He’d noticed 6,
“It seems we have company,” James observed quietly, his eyes flicking to the mirror.
I leaned back against the leather seat. “Let them follow. It adds to the performance.”
“Performance, sir??
My eyebrow arched slightly. “Of course. What did you think this was? We’re about to put on a show.”
James’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel. I knew that look–he was trying to gauge my mood, to determine how upset I really was about this situation.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Stark?” he ventured cautiously.
I merely smiled, checking my watch. “Just drive, James. We don’t want to keep our audience waiting.”
By the time we approached Manhattan General, my phone buzzed with an incoming video message from Sean. I opened it immediately, the volume just loud enough for me to hear clearly.
“I don’t care what your procedures are!” Victoria’s voice blasted through the speaker, shrill with indignation. “Do you have ANY idea who I am? Or who I work for?”
The camera caught her gesturing wildly at a stone–faced doctor and a nurse who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Victoria’s face was visibly swollen, angry red patches covering her neck and what was visible of her chest above her hospital gown.
“If you don’t fix this RIGHT NOW,” she continued, “Brandon Stark will shut this entire place down! Is that what you want? To lose your job because you couldn’t handle a simple allergic reaction?”
The doctor’s voice came next, measured and professional. “Ms. Taylor, we’ve administered antihistamines and steroids. The swelling will subside, but it takes time. There’s no magic solution that-”
“Time? TIME? I don’t HAVE time! I have a career, you idiot! If my face isn’t perfect by tomorrow, I will personally sue this entire hospital!”
The video cut off, and a text message from Sean followed: “Looks like this prima donna showed up at my hospital. How should I handle her?”
I typed back quickly: “Handle it however you want. Keep her there a few days. And make sure her face doesn’t heal too quickly.”
James cleared his throat. “Sir, we’re approaching the hospital now. Should I drop you at the entrance?”
I slid my phone back into my pocket, decision made. “Change of plans. I’m not going in.”
But sir, you said-”
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Chapter 293
“I know what I said,” I cut hint off smoothly. “You’ll go in my place.esent my… regrets. It’s getting late, and I should head home?
James looked genuinely confused now. “If I may ask, sir… why did welcome all this way if you weren’t planning to go insider
“Sometimes the anticipation of a visit can be more effective than the visit itself,” I replied cryptically. “You and Monica handle Victoria. I have more important matters to attend to.”
James nodded, clearly not satisfied with my explanation but knowing better than to press the issue. “I understand. We’ll take care of
it.”
As James opened the door, I added, “Oh, and James? Make sure those photographers following us get some good shots of you entering the hospital. We want the right story in tomorrow’s papers.
I made a detour to Whole Foods, strolling through the aisles with the unhurried confidence of a man who’d freed up his entire evening unexpectedly. I filled my basket with organic vegetables, prime cuts of pork ribs, and a bottle of Summer’s favorite wine. It was barely four–thirty–well over an hour before Summer would typically leave work.
By five fifteen, I was back at her Manhattan apartment, rolling up my sleeves and getting to work in the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables was oddly soothing, allowing my mind to organize the day’s events into their proper places. Elle had taken the bait perfectly, moving exactly as I’d predicted. Victoria had played her part, though unwittingly. And Jeffrey Sinclair would soon discover his precious Elle’s actions plastered across every gossip column in New York.
checked the broth–the pork ribs had been simmering for nearly an hour, filling the apartment with a rich aroma. The bone soup Summer loved so much was almost ready. I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and glanced at my watch: 6:35 PM. Summer would be home soon.
The front door opened at precisely 6:40 PM, and I heard her familiar footsteps in the entryway followed by the soft thud of her bag hitting the floor.
“Brandon?” Summer’s voice carried a note of surprise as she followed the scent to the kitchen.
I turned slightly, keeping an eye on the pot. “Welcome home.”
She stood in the doorway, still in her work clothes, her eyes wide with confusion. “You’re… home early? I thought you had that press conference today.”
“I did,” I confirmed, stirring the soup. “Wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Summer approached cautiously, peering over my shoulder at the stove. “You made soup? What kind?*
“Pork rib soup,” I answered, lifting the ladle so she could see. “Your favorite.”
She inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across her face. “It smells amazing. But wait–weren’t you supposed to be at the film announcement? You said you’d be home late.”
I turned off the heat and faced her fully. “There was a small change of plans. I went to the venue, but there was an… incident. The press conference was canceled.”
Summer’s eyebrows shot up. “An incident? What happened?”
“Victoria had an allergic reaction to something on her dress right before the event started,” I explained, keeping my to… neutral. “She was rushed to the hospital.”
“Allergic reaction?” Summer repeated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “To what?”
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Chapter 293
“Pollen,” I replied. “Someone tampered with her dress. The culprit was caught immediately.”
Understanding dawned in Summer’s eyes. “Victoria’s allergic to pollen? That’s not common knowledge. Only the Taylor family would know that, or…” She gave me a bearching look. “Do you know who did it?”
“The hotel employee confessed on the spot,” I said, setting out bowls for the soup. “He’d been paid by Elle Sinclair.”
Summer bit her lower lip, a habit she had when piecing things together. “So you didn’t go to the hospital to see Victoria,” she said softly. “You came home instead.”
“Of course,” I replied, ladling the steaming soup into bowls. Why would I go see her?”
Summer stepped closer, placing her hand on my arm. “Brandon, thank you. For thinking of me.”
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Silly girl,” I murmured. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”
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