Chapter 119

"This afternoon, Mr. Scott, his assistant, and the Scotts' fourth son, Aaron, all left. Only Ms. Lopez, the patient, and a nurse remain in the room. Mr. Green has been with Ms. Carter all day. I don't know what's wrong with them, but they've spent the entire afternoon pacing up and down the hallway."

"That is all for now."

The bodyguards were large men and couldn't get too close without being noticed, so their report was based on what they could see from a distance. They made sure to identify everyone involved in case their boss had questions.

George listened to the report in silence, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his phone. A dark cloud settled over his features.

So, Joshua's rumored girlfriend had confronted Marguerite. And Joshua had chosen to stay with the other woman. He hadn't chosen Stella.

He's pathetic. He doesn't deserve her love.

Stella must be heartbroken right now. And in this situation, Theobald's goal in contacting him was...

A realization dawned on George, his brow furrowing.

Theobald knew he liked Stella. Even though he had been so careful, so restrained, Theobald had seen through him. So, was Theobald trying to help him? Logically, this was the perfect opportunity for him to make his move.

The phrase "make his move" made George pause. The next second, a wild, frenzied excitement lit up his eyes.

"Could I? Could I really swoop in and take his place?"

He was no longer the broke, powerless teenager from years ago. He loved her more than Joshua ever could. He would always, unequivocally, choose her.

The mere possibility that Stella might come to like him made the man in the pristine white suit's breath catch in his throat. His chest heaved with anticipation.

Subconsciously, his left hand

clenched into a fist, his nails

digging

into the healing cuts on his palm.

The sharp pain brought him back to his senses.

He was too dark, too twisted. He didn't deserve Stella.

But Joshua deserved her even less.

The handsome man closed his eyes, his breathing evening out. His long, thick

lashes cast dappled shadows on his face.

"I understand," he told the bodyguard.

Meanwhile, Theobald was growing frantic. Several minutes had passed with no reply from George. He reread the message he'd sent, over and over, unable to find anything wrong with it. He had provided the perfect excuse; all Mr. Spencer had to do was take it. It was a chance to get rid of Joshua, yes, but it was also a prime opportunity to spend time with Marguerite.

"Did I misread the situation? Does he not like Marguerite after all?”

This was bad. Very bad. Theobald's left hand worked the beads on his right wrist furiously. It was too late He rubbed

to unsend the messayed

This temples and quickly typed another.

[Mr. Spencer, the dinner has been canceled. I can pick Maggie up myself. So sorry

to have bothered you.]

But just as he sent it, a reply from George came through.

[Hm? Canceled? Are you sure?]

Theobald's eyes widened. What did that mean? This man was impossible to read.

He hesitated, then typed, [I don't think so, actually.....]

George: [Good. Enjoy your meal.]