Her smile froze midair, her eyes welling up, but she quickly straightened, forcing a brave little grin. “When I’m fully recovered, maybe you won’t hate me so much. I’ll do everything I can—”
Arthur’s face darkened slightly. His eyes finally shifted to me—not with concern, but with irritation.
I didn’t have time for this performance. My focus was on the upcoming partnership meeting. But Loren giggled softly and playfully tapped Arthur’s chest with both hands.
“Arthur, I heard that last time I had an episode at the hospital, I really wanted pickled fried radish. You and Abraham waited two hours in the snow just to get it for me and bring it to my ward? That’s so sweet... I was in a coma then, and I’ve been recovering, so I never got the chance to say thank you.”
Arthur’s expression melted. “We’re family. It was nothing.”
Family? What a joke.
That day, I was writhing in pain at home from a stomach infection, barely able to stand. He left with Abraham for three hours, claiming he had to attend a father-son event.
Turns out, their little “family” event was for Loren.
“Then I owe you and Abraham a big dinner,” Loren said in a coy, sugary voice.