Chapter 7
Samuel grabbed his car keys and bolted out of the house. Lucas and I had no choice but to follow him as he sped toward the hospital.
However, Samuel must have been running too quickly to stop himself in time, for he ran into a man in a tailored suit at the hospital lobby.
I knew the man. He was none other than Kendall.
Kendall staggered backward upon impact. When he regained his footing and saw Samuel, shock colored his expression. “My, my, if it isn’t the brilliant upstart, Mr. Hawthorne. What are you doing here at this late hour, and running as if your life depended on it, no less?”
Samuel gave a hurried apology before stepping past Kendall and hurtling for the elevators: Kendall, highly amused by Samuel’s flustered behavior, quickly followed him to the hematology ward.
Francine wasn’t in the ward, so Samuel rushed into her attending doctor’s office instead. It was only after he’d learned that Francine was in the observation room and that she hadn’t passed out but only felt dizzy because of anemia that he let out a breath of relief.
His breathing was labored as he collapsed in the chair propped up in Francine’s hospital room. His gaze was hollow as he stared at the floor. He was clearly worried sick about Francine.
Kendall leaned against the door frame and wryly asked, “I thought your childhood sweetheart had already recovered. Why is she being admitted again?” Not in the mood for a friendly chat with Kendall, Samuel replied curtly, “She had a relapse.”
For the last few years, Samuel had frequent business dealings with Bloomington Group, and the deals were accumulating. Three years ago, Kendall’s father forced him to go abroad, and someone else stepped in to manage the group’s business affairs. Without Kendall getting in his way, Samuel had been making stellar progress in business.
6 3 2 2 2 5 3 8 28 30 3 2 2 LAR
“So, whose life are you going to trade for your childhood sweetheart this time?” Kendall suddenly asked.
Samuel looked at him as if he were an idiot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kendall assessed Samuel’s expression, and an odd smile curved his lips. “You’re quite the actor, Mr. Hawthorne. Sometimes, I don’t even know if you’re pretending.”
“Mr. Lowry, get to the point, will you? It’s not like you to beat around the bush,” Samuel snapped, his low, hard voice edged with impatience. Kendall drawled, “I only meant to ask whose bone marrow you intend to use for your childhood sweetheart’s transplant now that Calla’s dead.”
