If Victor ever found out it was his own granddaughter who stole the virus, I can’t even imagine what he’d do.
He’d be heartbroken, that’s for sure.
But you know what? He kinda brought this on himself. Spoiling your only granddaughter when you’re old? Yeah, that never ends well.
She’s gotten so out of control, she thinks the world revolves around her!
A doctor, but not a shred of medical ethics.
She knew exactly who Elysia was, and still had the nerve to stir up trouble.
Honestly, she has no clue about her own place in all this...
Back in his office, Benjamin picked up his phone and dialed Tarquin.
Tarquin was already at the company. After Elysia and the kids went to bed, he’d headed straight in. He’d been away for a while—even though Lowell was helping keep things afloat, the paperwork had piled up.
As soon as Benjamin answered, he was practically buzzing, “We got them all! Every single one took the bait!”
Tarquin barely looked up from his stack of paperwork—not surprised, not even remotely worried. He never went into a fight unprepared, and every move was pre-planned. Nothing unexpected would happen. No surprises, no slip-ups.
He’d just let Sabrina dig her own grave. She’d walked right into his trap, and climbing out would cost her dearly.
But right now, he was more concerned about Lucian.
“When will the results from Lucian’s paternity test be in?” he asked.
Benjamin replied, “The sample only arrived just before sunrise, so the soonest will be this afternoon. I’ll call you as soon as I have the results. Oh, and I looked into Lucian’s condition. He’s awake now, but it’s late-stage cancer. Doesn’t have much time left.”
Tarquin frowned. “How long, exactly?”
“Best case, maybe a year or so. Worst case, a few months.”
Tarquin went silent for a moment, then hung up and went back to work, brow furrowed in thought. He’d wait for the paternity results before making any decisions about Lucian.
For now, there were still two huge stacks of files on his desk, all waiting for his approval. It felt like being a kid coming back from a month-long summer break, only to find all your homework waiting for you.
Lowell sighed and left, and a collective groan rose from the workroom.
The boss had only been in for half a day, but it felt like they’d worked two weeks straight.
One of the secretaries, looking absolutely exhausted, whispered, “Lowell, it’s lunchtime. Doesn’t the boss get hungry?”
With all the work, nobody had time to eat. If Tarquin went to lunch, maybe they’d get a breather too.
Lowell shook his head. “Just hang in there. If you’re starving, grab some crackers or something from the break room.”
An actual chorus of groans followed.
Lowell ducked back into Tarquin’s office, intending to remind him about lunch. But seeing the storm cloud on Tarquin’s face, he chickened out.
Clearly, something—or someone—had put him in a bad mood.
As Lowell was trying to guess which unlucky partner was about to get chewed out, Tarquin’s phone suddenly lit up.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem