Chapter 253

Just now, Vincent had driven his fist straight into a mahogany display cabinet anchored to the wvall.

A thin stream of blood began to slide down his knuckles,leaving red drops on the marble beneath him. He barely reacted.

He kept his gaze fixed in the direction Claude and Hannah had disappeared, his tall figure seeming to give off a deep, empty grief.

All of the staff stood frozen, gripped by fear, none of them daring to step closer. Some hurried off to find the security manager and the supervisor.

Both the security manager and the supervisor rushed over, but as soon as they saw Vincent, their faces turned ashen and their breathing grew shallow.

An uneasy chill filled the entire room.

Only a few moments passed before Miles entered from the VIP lounge. Having just wrapped up a round of smooth talking with important clients, he walked in looking perfectly composed,still wearing a careful, distant expression.

Miles glanced down at Vincent's bloodied hand, his brow furrowing for just a split second. He chose not to ask questions.

The security manager started to mumble, "Mr. Whitaker, about Mr. Jones..."

Miles lifted his hand, silencing the manager with that simple gesture. Without even glancing Vincent's way, he spoke in a

gesture. Without even glancing Vincent's way, he spoke in a steady voice. "Send a detailed invoice to the Jones Group.Price the damages at the top market value."

The supervisor, taken aback by Miles's calm authority, nodded frantically. "Yes. We'll get right on it and send the letter to the Jones Group."

Miles whispered a few more instructions, and the security manager scurried off.

A doctor hurried in, took one look at Vincent's injury,and let out a quick gasp. Right away, he began cleaning and wrapping up the wound. When he was done, sweat beading on his forehead, he ventured, "Mr. Jones, you need to visit a hospital.That cut is much deeper than it looks."

Vincent lowered his eyes, staying completely silent.

Neither Vincent nor Miles said a word once they settled into the car.

After a while, Miles broke the silence. Their companies had a joint project on the table.

"The city's east side land deal is almost locked in with the government. The initial demolition hit some snags, but I talked to Robin Gill. He'll budge if we bump up the compensation by one percent," Miles said, scrolling through data on his tablet,his tone all business.

Vincent acknowledged with a deep sound, rough at the edges,as if his voice had just woken from sleep.

Miles swiped his finger across the screen, closing the file. With a shift in his tone that signaled genuine curiosity, he asked, "So,you and Hannah. What's the deal now?"

Not bothering to turn his head, Vincent kept staring out the window, a tightness building in his throat as he fought back a tidal wave of emotion.

Just when Miles figured Vincent would stay silent, Vincent muttered, barely audible, "No deal."

Miles replied in a gentle voice, "Is that so?" After a few seconds, his words took on a deeper, more serious note."Come on, man. You care about her so much. Even more than back when she lost her sight."

Vincent let his eyelids fall shut for a moment and then opened them, his features settling into a calm, blank stare as he tried to shake off what Miles had just said. Changing the topic back to business, he spoke. "About the land on the east side. Robin's got big plans lined up."

Since the auction, Vincent had been grinding through a brutal week, running on fumes like an overclocked machine. He hadn't come home once.

Having skipped the hospital trip altogether and only received basic treatment, the injury on his hand kept flaring up, never healing,while a pale flush colored his face with fever.

One day, Derek entered Vincent's office quietly, placing the finalized East District proposal on the cleanest spot he could find on Vincent's cluttered desk. "Mr. Jones, I've got the last draft for the project."

Vincent didn't lift his head, only offering a gruff hmm.

Derek lingered. Vincent had been swamped, barely touching the ground, so Derek saw his chance to bring up Erica's situation. "Mr. Jones, I have something to report."

But before Derek could continue, a sharp bang echoed through the room. Vincent collapsed into his leather chair and lost consciousness.

Derek hurried to Vincent's side, instantly noticing how hot

Derek hurried to Vincent's side, instantly noticing how hot Vincent felt with a fever. Without wasting a second,he called for assistance, and together they rushed Vincent to the hospital.

After fluids and a routine of hospital procedures, Vincent finally regained consciousness. The harsh scent of antiseptic made him wince.

Derek spoke. "Mr. Jones, your fever was through the roof. The doctor says you can't keep working yourself like this."

"Get out," Vincent rasped, his throat scratchy and congested.

Holding back anything else he wanted to say, Derek left the room, deciding to fetch something Vincent could eat.

Vincent pushed himself upright, his head spinning as a thick fog clouded his thoughts.

A few moments passed before he pulled the IV from his arm.Paperwork and contracts still waited for him back at the office.

Clouded by fever and stubborn determination, Vincent drove himself straight back to work.

When Derek returned with a tray of food, he stopped short,finding the hospital bed empty.

"Back to the office? Vincent just won't quit," Derek muttered to himself.

Hannah had clocked out and returned to her apartment building.She stepped out of the elevator, only to stop in her tracks.Someone tall, unmistakable even from a distance, stood at her apartment door.

She recognized Vincent immediately. posture stiff and formal.