Chapter 36
Dylan calmed down, his face serious. "Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes!"
"I'm not, Grandpa. Harper and I just had a disagreement," Francis explained.
Dylan didn't buy it for a second and looked directly at Harper. "Tell me, Harper, is that the case?"
Harper, her mind a bit foggy, opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Then, in the blink of an eye, she found herself enveloped in Francis's long arms, with his fingers pressing lightly on her shoulder in a seemingly intimate gesture. "Harper, Grandpa's talking to you."
Dylan quickly pulled Harper back, his face stern. "Don't you dare intimidate her. Come on, talk to me straight. Is it as the little rascal said? Did you have just a spat?"
Despite his apparent scolding, the hope and joy in his eyes were unmistakable.
Harper pursed her lips, forcing a smile, and whispered, "Yes, Dylan."
"Well, that's a huge relief," Dylan laughed heartily. "You kids nearly gave me a heart attack!"
With moist eyes, Harper held Dylan's weathered hand tightly. " Dylan, you've got to stick around for a long, long time."
"Don't you cry, my dear Harper!" Dylan chuckled. "I've told you I'm in good spirits, no need to worry. Besides, I'm nearly ninety—if the Good Lord wants to take me, then so be it. My only regret is not getting to see you two have little ones—a little Francis or a tiny Harper."
Harper's eyes brimmed with tears. "Don't talk nonsense, Dylan. You're going to live to be a hundred!"
"That's the spirit, kid. I'm waiting to hold that golden granddaughter, especially if she's as adorable as you, Harper."
Just then, the nurse came in to remind Dylan to get some rest, and Harper quickly helped Dylan lie down.
Before settling in, Dylan didn't forget to throw in a stern warning, "Listen here, young man, you'd better treat Harper right, or you'll have to answer to me."
After leaving the hospital room, Francis strode ahead, with Harper trailing behind, the words "I'm not planning to divorce Harper" echoing in her mind.
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that—whether it was his genuine intention or just a strategy for the moment.
Head lowered, she felt like her heart was a tangled ball of yarn—all messy and chaotic.
Suddenly, her wrist was grabbed by Francis, who pulled her around the corner with a firm tug.
Stumbling to follow, she barely caught her breath to ask why when she heard the man's sarcastic sneer above her. "Harper, you really play a good game!"
Harper was taken aback, clueless about what Francis was referring to.
Through gritted teeth, he spat out, "If you don't want a divorce, you could've just said so. Why involve Dylan? I warned you not to. He's old and can't handle the stress."
Harper's eyes widened in disbelief.
For two years, she had been nothing but considerate toward Dylan, treating him like her grandpa. She believed that even if Francis didn't acknowledge her efforts, he should know she'd never want to hurt Dylan.
And yet, this was what Francis thought of her.
Ironically, she had just been wondering if perhaps Francis honestly didn't want to divorce her.
'It turns out she was the one harboring delusions, all alone.’
'It feels like countless needles puncturing her chest, an intense and suffocating pain.'
She mustered a bitter smile. "So, you think I told Dylan about the divorce?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Francis retorted.
It wasn't a question. He was pronouncing her guilt.
He didn't even bother to investigate and immediately presumed it was her doing.
Injustice, sorrow, and heartache overwhelmed Harper, freezing her in place.
He didn't believe her. Any explanation seemed futile.
"Fine! Take it as though I spilled the beans. You've 'caught' me. Let's just hurry up and get that divorce then!" she said, her voice steeped in a mix of defiance and resignation.
After she spoke, tears cascaded from her eyes like never-ending rain, impossible to halt.
At the sight of her tears, Francis suddenly panicked. Reaching out to wipe them away, his hand was sharply swatted by Harper.
"What are you waiting for, Francis? For someone as vile and deceitful as me, what's there to hesitate about?"
His hand abruptly rejected, and a chill crossed Francis's face as he muttered, "We can't divorce now, for Grandpa's sake."
"Just let me know once you've sorted things out with Dylan. I'm always available," Harper said as she dried her tears and marched forward. Her heart was numb to pain or any sensibility.
She had barely taken a few steps when a feeble voice stopped her.
"Harper, Francis..."
Chloe approached with tiny, hurried steps and nearly stumbled next to Francis, who caught her. He asked with a piercing gaze, "What are you doing here?"
"I was here for a follow-up appointment and just happened to see you and Dylan arriving."
Panic etched Chloe's face. "Francis, what's happened to Dylan? May I see him?"
Harper halted, her eyes cool as she looked toward Chloe, "Miss Musk, please, don't disturb Dylan. He doesn't want to see you!"
"Francis, I genuinely just care about Dylan. Why is Harper so malicious toward me?" Her voice thick with sobs, Chloe played the victim to perfection.
Harper observed the act, stoically unaffected.
Dylan had just been through a medical emergency. Seeing Chloe could trigger another health setback.
She couldn't believe Francis didn't grasp such a simple concept.
As expected, after a brief silence, Francis clarified, "Chloe, you can't see Grandpa right now."
'What?'
Chloe's eyes widened, her tears forgotten in shock.
'Isn't Francis willing to do anything for me?’
'Yet now he's preventing me from seeing Dylan with such frankness!
'I knew that aside from his father, no one in the Getty family cared for her, but couldn't Francis at least pretend?'
She shot a glance at Harper, a venomous chill flashing in her eyes.
'It's this wretch who was driving a wedge between me and Francis.
'Despicable!
'I wish dead!'
Suppressing the bitterness in her heart with feigned sorrow, Chloe inquired, "Francis, weren't you two supposed to get a divorce today? How did Dylan end up hospitalized so suddenly? Did someone say something to him?"
Her insinuations to Francis were clear—Dylan's hospitalization was no simple event.
Harper chuckled coldly. 'Their thoughts were clearly in sync. Both had considered me guilty.'
Chloe then turned her teary eyes toward Harper. "Harper, if you don't want a divorce, just say it. Why play games with me? You said over the phone that you were going to get a divorce."
Her tears hung on the brink of falling, a picture of innocence and pity.
Harper's mouth twitched, tired of the overdone theatrics.
Before and after Francis, Chloe had shown two faces, and Harper was in no mood to indulge her dramatics.
"The reason we can't divorce right now? Francis will explain it to you."
With that, Harper turned on her heel, only to bump into Abigail, who had just returned.
Seeing Harper's red eyes and the couple behind her, Abigail understood immediately.
She took Harper's hand with authority, declaring, "You're not going anywhere. You're one of The Getty family. If anyone should leave, it's the shameless intruder!"
Abigail's voice was loud, turning Chloe's face pale in an instant. She swayed and clung to Francis.
Her head bent low, shoulders trembling. To any onlooker, she was sobbing.
But in reality, she was seething with rage.
'That wicked old witch, constantly spewing venom!’
'I'm furious!’
'But what do I care if the old witch doesn't like me? As long as I have Francis, that's enough.’
'Once I become Mrs. Getty, the first thing I'll take care of is that old hag!' Chloe thought.’
Abigail's eyes blazed with fury as Chloe shamelessly clung to Francis. Snatching a broom from a nearby janitor, she swept up trash from the floor and flung it at Chloe.
Chloe burst into tears, her face a mask of hurt. " Abigail, what are you doing?"
Abigail pointed the broom at Chloe, her rosy lips and raven hair exuding authority. "Trash should be swept out!"
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