Chapter 151 "Are you blind? Mr. Jacob told you to scram, so why are you still standing there?"
Violet Devereux rode back to her high-rise apartment with the couture dress worth a whopping $800,000 in tow. As she gazed into the bag cradling the gown, her attention was unexpectedly drawn to a beautifully crafted card that had been tucked inside.
Extracting the card, Violet's eyes widened in disbelief at the message inscribed: "Happy Birthday??" Birthday? Indeed, it was her birthday today, but a man like Brady Hall wouldn't remember that, would he? Yet, he had custom-ordered the dress, so somehow, he must have.
Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. Was his dinner invitation tonight because of her birthday? Her heart raced further before she forced herself to regain composure. What was she thinking? Was she really getting swayed by a dress and a birthday card, to the point of betraying her principles? That was simply beneath her.
With clarity, Violet shredded the elegant card, crushing the pieces in her palm, and disposed of them in a trash bin at the bus stop. She had planned a special dinner out with her twins to celebrate, but that was now off the table.
Resigned, she purchased a cake from a nearby bakery to have a small celebration at home, promising herself to take the kids out for a proper meal later when she could.
Upon returning, cake in hand and ready to shake off the evening's events, Violet was met with the cries of Henry and Nicole and the frantic efforts of her aunt trying to soothe them. No matter how much her aunt consoled, the twins' heart-wrenching sobs pierced Violet. Dropping the cake, she rushed to the living room.
"Aunt Mary, what's wrong with the kids? Why are they crying?" she asked urgently.
"It's good you're back," her aunt said, nearly at her wit's end. "Henry has a fever; he's burning up."
The sudden high fever made Henry uncomfortable and fussy, and with Nicole seeing her brother in distress, she naturally joined in his cries. Aunt Mary, inexperienced with such matters, tried to calm him, intending to take him to the hospital.
Fevers could be dangerous if left untreated—they might allow a virus to invade the brain.
"A fever?" Violet's heart lurched. She hurried over, crouched in front of Henry who lay on the couch, and felt his forehead, which radiated heat. "Aunt Mary, did you take his temperature with the ear thermometer?"
"I just took his temperature; it's 103°F. It's been jumping between 101 and 103 all day. The fever patches didn't help," Violet Devereux fretted over Henry while her aunt took care of Nicole, who was still crying beside them.
"It's okay, Henry, don't cry. We're going to the hospital, and you'll feel better there." Without another word, Violet's heart ached as she watched her son, delirious and crying from the fever. Fighting back her own tears, she quickly scooped up Henry and headed for the doorway.
The aunt, clutching Nicole in her arms, hastily packed some diapers and formula into a bag and followed Violet to the hospital.
*
Meanwhile, across town in a booming nightclub bathed in the glow of neon lights and the roar of music, a striking man lounged in a VIP booth like a king in his court, silently swirling his glass of red wine, deep in thought. Beside him, Arthur chatted animatedly with the others.
After a while, Arthur turned to look at the man whose expression was hidden in the shadows and twirled his glass before saying, "We come here to unwind, why the long face?"
"I'm just staying for a bit, then I'm off," responded Brady Hall with a sip of his wine.
"In such a rush? Got a lady waiting at home, or are you off to meet one?" Arthur teased with a sly smile, "Or is it because of Violet Devereux?"
This was not the usual Brady Hall who, despite his disdain for the noise, would still join them for a few drinks to chill out.
But today, he seemed off his game. Was it because of Violet Devereux?
It wasn't out of the question.
At the mention of Violet, Brady brushed it off, "It's nothing."
"Some models are coming over in a bit, why don't you stay and have some fun?" suggested Arthur, not buying the act and smiling mischievously.
"Not interested."
Determined to prod him, Arthur signaled to a waiter with a snap of his fingers.
Soon enough, several glamorous models dressed provocatively approached, swaying their hips. Upon seeing the two handsome men sitting at the center of the booth, their eyes lit up. These models were used to accompanying men who were neither attractive nor fit, but this time, the two men at the center were premium, as handsome as movie stars.
Excited, the models made their way toward Brady and Arthur, eager to please.
Brady Hall didn't appreciate unfamiliar women getting too close, so when one model approached, he said coldly, "Sit over there."
"What's wrong?" the model, unfamiliar with him, continued coquettishly, "Don't you want my company?"
Brady Hall's gaze turned steely, his voice taking on an icy edge, "Do you not understand me?"
After his words cut through the air, a nearby waiter quickly pulled the aspiring model aside, chastising her in a hushed tone, "Are you blind? Mr. Hall told you to scram, so why are you still standing there?"
How could the model know he was Mr. Hall, the head honcho of New York's premier financial empire?
Her face drained of color as she stammered, "I... I had no idea."
"Scram, go mingle with the others," the waiter ordered, fearing Brady Hall's wrath as he ushered her away.
With a resigned nod, the model made herself scarce.
Left to his own devices, Brady resumed sipping his drink in silence. Yet, as he did, a brief flicker of concern crossed his brow.
Something felt off.
And as his mind began to grow irritated, the sweet, innocent faces of those two kids popped into his thoughts.
Were those little ones doing alright?
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