Chapter 982 Mysterious Transaction
"Awake?" The voice on the other end came through a voice modulator, emotionless and unrecognizable.
Henry answered honestly, "Yes."
A few days ago, he had called Abella, begging her to save Lola, only to be refused. While he sat helpless in the hospital, a stranger had called with an offer—a way to save Lola. The catch: Henry had to agree to three unspecified favors. Desperate, he had accepted without knowing what he was agreeing to.
"So what's the first favor?" Henry asked.
"Patience." Even through the modulator, the voice carried an unmistakable authority. "When I need you, I'll call. Don't contact me otherwise. Now that your woman is awake, our deal is sealed. Here's to a profitable partnership."
The line went dead. Henry stared at his phone, unease gnawing at him. Something felt wrong about this arrangement, but he'd had no choice—he couldn't watch the woman he loved die.
The stranger had directed him to retrieve pills from a specific location. After Lola took them, she'd remained unconscious for days, making Henry question whether he'd been deceived. Only when the hospital declared her out of danger and cleared for home recovery had his fears begun to subside.
He'd spared no expense equipping their home with medical equipment, wanting Lola to spend the holidays somewhere warm and familiar rather than in the sterile hospital. The pills had worked, but at what cost? What would the stranger demand next?
At Long Island Manor, Abella returned home to find family photos from their Christmas shoot displayed throughout the house.
"Abella, you're back! Look at these gorgeous photos!" Kimberly grabbed her hand excitedly. "This large one goes on the main wall—guests will see it the moment they walk in. These smaller ones go on the side tables so visitors can admire our happy family while they have tea."
"Please, who wants to stare at those?" Dennis's voice dripped with jealousy. "And besides, we're not even all here. People are going to think I've dropped off the face of the earth."
He was the only one absent from the Christmas photos, and now he regretted it bitterly. If he'd known how adorable and charming Abella would be, he would have crawled to that photo session despite his injuries.
"You're just jealous," Winston said smugly, admiring a photo of himself with Abella. "This one's perfect for my desk. Even the frame is cute."
"Look at yourself—hideous," Dennis sneered at Winston's image. "Abella looks completely reluctant to be photographed with you."
"That's not true—she's clearly smiling."
"That's called a forced smile."
"Enough, both of you," Abella laughed, interrupting their bickering. "Won't there be more photos at Christmas?"
Everyone turned to stare at her in surprise. "How did you know? We didn't tell anyone!"
"Don't you take photos for every holiday?" Since joining this family, Abella had noticed they documented every celebration.
"Abella's so perceptive," Beckett chuckled. "Since you've figured out our pattern, I won't keep it secret. Tomorrow's Christmas shoot is already scheduled—a photography team will come here, and we'll all wear matching outfits. No more fighting over photos."
"More pictures with Abella for me," Winston gloated at Dennis.
Dennis couldn't stand it. Then Abella spoke up, "Dennis, didn't you mention taking selfies with me on the way home?"
"Right! I almost forgot." Dennis was touched that Abella would help him save face. He pulled out his phone, threw an arm around her shoulders, and snapped multiple shots.
"Are you done yet?" Winston complained acidly. "Same pose, dozens of photos—aren't you exhausting Abella?"
"You don't understand—it's called different angles!" Dennis turned back to his phone. "Abella, smile for me."
Abella obliged with a bright smile as Dennis rapid-fired several more shots.
"Hideous. What's worth photographing?" Winston couldn't help commenting on Dennis's grinning face.
"Mind if I join?" Ethan squeezed in on Abella's other side, forcing his way into the frame.
"Who invited you? Move—you're blocking my shot with Abella!"
Everyone around them burst into laughter.
When Lola awoke again, her eyes held no spark—just the hollow gaze of someone who had lost all hope.
"Ms. Medici, you're awake! Thank God!" Briar quickly called Henry.
The attending physician immediately began examining Lola, checking for complications before breathing a sigh of relief.
Henry was still in the shower when he got the news. He threw on a robe and rushed over, hair still dripping wet, skin flushed from the steam. From this angle, he looked devastatingly handsome.
"Lola? You're finally awake." Henry's relief was palpable. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? The doctor says you can have some broth now, right?"
The doctor, momentarily distracted by Henry's appearance, snapped back to attention. "Yes. Ms. Medici can have light broth. Small amounts, frequently. No large meals yet—she hasn't eaten in days."
"Should I have some brought up?" Henry asked gently.
"Yes," Lola nodded, filling Henry with hope. Her willingness to eat was encouraging—depression and refusing food would only weaken her further.
"I'll get it," Briar said cheerfully. "Ms. Medici, I'll be right back."
"You can go," Henry dismissed the doctor, who reluctantly bowed and left despite clearly wanting to linger.
Briar returned quickly with a bowl of broth. "Let me," Henry said, taking the bowl from her hands. "I'll feed her."
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