Chapter 459 Meeting Without Recognition
Louis seemed taken aback that he would ask such a question.
"My test results show you didn't injure your brain."
Willard took a deep breath. "I mean, if I can't get up, how am I supposed to get to the bathroom?"
Louis glanced at the catheter and understood.
"We can remove it today. After that, you can handle things in bed, or have family wheel you to the bathroom in a wheelchair, or call for a nurse's aide. You have plenty of subordinates who can help you."
Willard's breathing grew heavy, clearly on the edge of anger. "Just hurry up and fix me!"
Louis closed the medical chart and clipped his pen to his chest pocket. "I can't do anything. We need Coralie for this."
"Then get her here."
"I can't reach her. Yves upset Coralie again recently. I don't know where she is, and she's blocked me too."
Willard reasonably suspected Louis was trying to mess with him. "I haven't done anything to wrong you, have I?"
Louis shook his head. "No."
"I'm telling you the truth," he added.
Having Anne here to help with his urination was embarrassing enough. Now there were potentially more serious issues. Plus, she had just threatened him, so he didn't dare find any excuse to send her away.
If he really pushed her too far and she left for good, he'd lose everything. While he'd be more than happy to have her care for him when he could take care of himself, under these circumstances, he'd rather not.
After Willard tried unsuccessfully to get up on his own, Anne walked in with Quinton. Quinton was perceptive—even though Willard couldn't get out of bed, he wouldn't have Anne summon him. Willard had his ways, so clearly he wanted Anne out of the room. Quinton had deliberately delayed outside.
"Mr. Larson, you wanted to see me."
Willard gestured for him to come closer and whispered a few words in his ear. Quinton hesitated, looking somewhat disapproving, but with Anne nearby, he couldn't say anything. He could only reluctantly agree.
"I understand, Mr. Larson."
As Quinton left the room, Anne called after him. She looked at Willard. "Didn't you say you were hungry and wanted me to call him in? Why didn't you tell him to get food?"
Willard replied without missing a beat, "I just did."
Anne knew Willard well enough. If it was just about food, he wouldn't need to whisper mysteriously in someone's ear. He was definitely having Quinton handle something else. He'd asked her to call Quinton from the doorway just to get her out of the room, which meant Louis had said something she wasn't supposed to hear. Perhaps Willard's condition was much more serious than she knew.
"Willard, what are you hiding from me?"
"Nothing." Willard quickly denied it. "I just have business for him to handle. He'll have someone else get my food. I can't micromanage every single thing—with all my subordinates, wouldn't that kill me? They've worked for me for years. They know what to do and what not to do."
Anne was convinced. That made sense. Given Willard's line of work, some matters were confidential and couldn't be discussed openly. But she still felt something was off.
Louis suddenly spoke up, "He's basically going to be like a paraplegic. Eating, drinking, everything—he'll need care. Are you sure you can handle that?"
Anne was still puzzling over what felt wrong and initially thought Louis was talking to Willard. It took her a moment to realize he was addressing her.
"I can. I'll take care of him."
"It won't be for long anyway. Once Coralie gets here, he'll be able to move again. Then he won't need help with basic functions."
"Louis!" Willard finally lost his usual composure entirely. "You're really annoying. No wonder Isla won't even give you the time of day."
Louis's already cold expression turned even more severe, dropping the room temperature several degrees. Anne was startled and shifted away. Willard noticed and looked at Louis, his own expression darkening.
"If you know it hurts, show some restraint."
Louis turned and left.
Willard's gaze softened as it fell on Anne. "Did he scare you?"
Anne shook her head and sat down beside the bed. A nurse came in and removed the catheter, giving Anne various instructions, which she carefully noted down.
After the nurse left, she said to Willard, "If something's wrong, just tell me. Don't think anything is too embarrassing. Just think of me as a nurse's aide."
Willard's Adam's apple bobbed. "I can hire an aide. I have plenty of people. Anne, you really don't need to take care of me."
He'd been trying to send her away since he woke up, which wasn't like him at all. Before, when he was pursuing her and she'd said all those harsh things, he'd remained stubborn. So why was he suddenly trying to distance himself when she wanted to stay and care for him?
All evidence pointed to his condition being much worse than she knew.
"Willard, have you noticed that you're always trying to control the pace of things? You did it to me before, and you're still doing it now. How is it that you've never thought about respecting me?"
Willard was speechless, unsure how the conversation had shifted to this.
"All those years you were good to me, you just saw me as a sister. So when I confessed, you gave me the cold shoulder, thinking our relationship couldn't be anything beyond siblings. Later, when you thought you'd figured out your own feelings and realized I didn't like you anymore, you decided on your own to pursue me. When I rejected you, you just became more persistent."
Anne felt like crying again. She paused, swallowing the bitterness in her throat.
"Now you think you can't take care of yourself, that you're seriously injured. You don't want me to see you vulnerable, don't want me helping with your basic needs because you think it's undignified, so you're trying to send me away. Saying hurtful things."
"Willard, I understand your methods—you've been in power for so long. But feelings don't follow logic. Those tactics of yours won't work, you know."
Willard had always known he was wrong. He'd tried everything to make amends, but the sickness in his heart had never healed. When he felt she no longer loved him, it only got worse. Yet clearly, it was his own self-destructive behavior that had gradually killed her feelings for him. In the end, he was the one who broke down.
"That's not what I meant..." he explained weakly.
Last night's heroic rescue had indeed been partly selfish—he'd wanted to earn her sympathy to get closer to her. He really was at his wit's end. But later, he'd felt this approach was also immoral, no different from his previous attempts to force and deceive her. That's why he'd told her not to feel indebted.
"I do value my dignity, but I'm not disrespecting you. I just think that since we're ex-spouses, you have no reason to take care of me. You can stay in the room, but some things should be left to professionals."
Anne felt he was saying the same thing in different words. She thought about it and decided there was no point in talking to Willard further. He'd been injured because of her, so she'd care for him and do what needed to be done.
"I'm stating my position: I'm not leaving, no matter what you say. If you think I'm not professional enough, I can hire an aide and assist them. I don't want to say anything else. Rest, or wait for Quinton to bring back food."
Willard's lips moved repeatedly, but he couldn't get a word out. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because he knew yet couldn't say it. Besides, with her having said that much, what was the point of continuing?
"Tell Quinton what you want to eat."
Just then, Anne's phone rang. It was Thora.
She answered, "What's up?"
Thora's voice was barely contained excitement, "Ms. Waverly, we're going to Vesperia. We found the monkey, the... uh, colobus, that colobus!"
Anne didn't quite understand, just hearing something about a colobus and Thora being very excited.
"Slow down."
"The endangered black-and-white colobus in the wild."
Anne had a general idea: "I've photographed them before. Did you see it while organizing files?"
"No," Thora denied. "It's a paid shoot in the rainforest. Good money. Really good money."
Anne frowned. She never took paid jobs photographing wildlife. Photographing wild animals was just a hobby outside her regular work. The entire photography community knew this rule. Since Thora followed her work, she couldn't be unaware.
"You took it?"
"I didn't. Of course I had to ask you first. I just got excited thinking I could see the endangered colobus in person."
Anne responded, "Turn it down. I'll take you to photograph them when I have time."
Thora was stunned: "Ms. Waverly, this job is worth a hundred million dollars. You really won't take it?"
How much? The photography world knew her rule, but also knew she loved money. Except for wildlife, she photographed everything else for the highest bidder, especially after she became famous.
Anne realized the client had come prepared—a hundred million dollars was hard to resist.
Willard noticed Anne's changing expression and said slowly, "I have plenty of people here to help. You should go handle your business."
Anne suddenly understood. She told Thora "I'll call you back" and hung up.
She stared at Willard without saying a word, making him nervous.
Willard forced himself to meet her gaze. "Sorry, I shouldn't have spoken."
"Oh, you spoke perfectly." Anne laughed bitterly. "So Mr. Larson, with all your money, thinks a hundred million dollars is enough to get rid of me?"
Willard had nothing to say. Even Quinton had shown disapproval at this clumsy scheme, but Willard couldn't think of anything better. He'd tried it hoping her love for wildlife might cloud her judgment, not knowing that Anne had already photographed everything worth photographing over the years, and that she had a rule against charging for wildlife photography. He still didn't understand her well enough.
"Willard, you'll never change this self-righteous streak of yours."
Willard was speechless.
"Since you don't want me here, I won't be an eyesore anymore. From now on, we'll never see each other again."
"Anne!" Willard panicked, wanting to grab her but unable even to lift his hand, let alone move.
If only he could fall out of bed—then maybe he could make her stay.
The hospital room door slammed shut, separating their two worlds forever.
"Anne."
Anne ran into Elissa, who was just arriving at the hospital.
"Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?"
Anne shook her head: "I'm fine, Elissa. I cry when I get emotional—it's like tear incontinence."
Elissa nodded. "Have you eaten? Let me take you for food. Something sweet will cheer you up."
Anne nodded. Elissa hadn't come to see Willard anyway, so they left arm in arm.
Francis was speechless. He started to follow but got a glare from Elissa that stopped him in his tracks. Changing direction, he walked into the hospital room.
"Anne!" Willard thought Anne had returned. His usual composure was completely gone, his voice clearly panicked and desperate.
Francis had never seen Willard show such vulnerable emotion, not even during his episodes.
"You drove her away?"
Willard turned his head and said nothing.
Francis stood by the bed, giving it a quick scan, then smirked. "You can only take your temper out on me now. Louis says you're badly injured—paralyzed. What, you played the hero and still couldn't win Anne back?"
Willard didn't want to talk, exhausted beyond description.
Francis hadn't really planned to come—Willard wouldn't be in any real danger. If Elissa hadn't wanted to see Anne, and he didn't want her to tire herself out after yesterday's exhaustion, he wouldn't be here.
"I helped you before, said you might harm yourself, that your psychological condition was serious. But it didn't create much of a stir. I thought when you followed them to the black market, you had some other plan. Instead, you ended up like this and still couldn't earn an ounce of sympathy. Though I suppose that makes sense, considering how deeply you hurt her."
Willard didn't want to hear about the past anymore. He knew he was wrong—deeply, thoroughly wrong. He didn't need constant reminders. It was really annoying.
"Did you just come here to rub salt in my wounds?"
"Just warning you not to drag me down with you, or we won't even be friends anymore."
"Are we now?" Willard actually laughed bitterly. "Ever since you started dating, you've been jabbing at my pain points. Now that you know Anne is Elissa's sister, you're here to upset me for Elissa's sake, right? How can you even say that?"
"Good that you understand," Francis said calmly.
Willard was speechless. 'Truly shameless,' he thought.
Francis had said what he came to say and turned to leave. He called Elissa, but she didn't answer, instead sending a message telling him not to look for her—she wanted to talk to Anne alone.
Francis sat down on a bench outside the room. When Quinton returned with food, he bowed respectfully. Francis asked about the situation.
Quinton explained, "Mr. Armstrong said once Coralie comes, Mr. Larson will be able to move again. But Coralie and Mr. Armstrong had a fight and she's unreachable for now. Mr. Larson can't take care of himself and wanted to drive Mrs. Larson away, but that didn't work. So he had me arrange something to send Mrs. Larson away on a wildlife photography job, but that failed too. When I got back with the food, Mrs. Larson had already left."
He really bent over backwards to help Willard win his lover back!
"I disagreed with Mr. Larson's approach—the excuse was too flimsy. As expected..."
Francis hadn't asked for all these details, but he didn't stop Quinton from sharing. After hearing everything, he said nothing.
"Go feed him."
Quinton thought Francis had taken it all in and might help think of a solution, so he felt relieved. He didn't know that Francis had no intention of helping at all.
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