Chapter 933 Tom Begs Connor Not to Drive Him Away
Outside Connor's Apartment Building
Connor had just returned from the hospital when he spotted a familiar figure—Beck Murray.
"What are you doing outside my building?" Connor asked coolly.
Beck emerged from inside, radiating hostility. "I'm here on business, obviously."
"I'm sorry, but I've had a long day. I'm exhausted," Connor replied flatly.
Beck frowned. "Connor, are you really going to watch the Hawthorne empire crumble in a woman's hands? Marshall intended to give you those shares. Now Avery's planning to sell off Hawthorne Group stock, and you're not going to fight for it?"
It was clear Beck was trying to drag Connor into the mess now that the Murrays were isolated.
"Sorry, but I have neither the talent nor the energy to run a company. Whatever Avery decides is fine by me." Connor attempted to walk past him toward the entrance.
"Connor, I wouldn't be waiting here if I didn't have leverage. You think I'm begging for your help?" Beck let out a cold laugh. "Others might not know about your relationship with Owen, but I do. How would you feel if those sordid details became public?"
Connor froze, the temperature around him seeming to drop. If looks could kill, Beck would have been dead on the spot.
"I've learned you're living with another man now. You've managed to avoid any romantic scandals all these years. Your preference for men isn't public knowledge, is it?"
Beck had clearly misunderstood, assuming Connor and Tom were a couple.
"You've got it wrong," Connor said with a bitter smile.
"Connor, working together benefits us both. Think carefully. Owen was part of our circle. Those videos of what he did to you as a child... they circulated among us. I still have copies."
Their "circle" was a collection of depraved individuals—Beck, Rhett, Owen—all repulsive in their perversions and violations of basic human decency.
Connor clenched his fists, struggling to control his emotions. "Have you considered why the Hawthornes are in their current situation?"
He laughed coldly. "Go ahead, release the videos. But consider this: if I deny it's me, who can prove otherwise? Even if you somehow prove it, I'll have you arrested and sue you for privacy violation and distribution of obscene material."
Beck narrowed his eyes, lighting a cigarette. "Connor, I prefer working with perceptive people. It would be a shame to see the Hawthorne empire fall. We don't need to be enemies."
"I've told you, I have no interest or skill in managing companies. The fate of the Hawthorne Group means nothing to me. I've given Avery full authority over my shares. Instead of approaching me, why not speak with her? She was your daughter-in-law, after all."
With that, Connor walked away.
Beck's face darkened with rage. He spat on the ground, got into his car, and barked at his driver, "Take me to Avery!"
The Murrays had recently fallen out of favor with several powerful entities. With the Powells now against them as well, and Rhett proving useless, Beck was running out of options. Perhaps he could still negotiate with Avery, since she and Rhett hadn't finalized their divorce yet.
Inside Connor's Apartment
Connor stood in the stairwell for a long time before finally heading home.
Despite his best efforts to control his emotions, he couldn't stop trembling. That bastard Owen should have died in prison.
When he reached for the doorknob, Connor realized he couldn't even open the door—his hands were shaking too badly.
This was a physical manifestation of his psychological trauma, triggered by Beck's visit.
As a psychologist, Connor had initially chosen his profession to heal himself. He was desperately trying to save himself.
That was why when he met Jasmine in prison, he saw himself reflected in her. He genuinely wanted to help her overcome her psychological trauma—in part because he was trying to help himself.
He believed that if Jasmine could crawl out of the darkness and see light from the depths, then he could too.
But the darkness kept returning. He could never truly forget the past trauma.
In Jasmine, he saw resilience, desolation, and brokenness. He wanted to piece together the shattered rose.
He tried so hard to succeed, but while he could save others, he couldn't save himself.
The door suddenly opened from inside. Tom, who had been taking out the trash and wondering why Connor hadn't returned yet, jumped in surprise.
Clutching his chest, Tom frowned. "Jesus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Connor stared at Tom in silence before finally speaking. "You need to move out."
Their living arrangement was causing misunderstandings.
"Ethan tricked you into staying here just to annoy me. You've done enough of that. I never actually intended to hurt Jasmine, so you can leave now."
Connor's head was pounding. If Beck hit a wall with Avery, he would definitely come back. To avoid complications, he wanted Tom gone.
Though Tom's parents were deceased, he still had his family home. The Whites certainly didn't lack money or property.
Tom had everything he needed, yet kept finding excuses to stay with Connor.
Tom remained silent, looking down at Connor.
Though Connor was tall, Tom was slightly taller and built like a bull. When upset, his presence could be intimidating—a family trait he shared with his cousin Ethan.
Connor felt exhausted. He didn't look up at Tom, just wanted to enter his apartment, but Tom blocked the doorway like a refrigerator.
Connor grew increasingly agitated, his hands shaking badly. All he wanted was to shut himself away.
Tom continued staring at Connor, clearly sensing something was wrong. But being straightforward by nature, he didn't know how to offer comfort. He had his own hurt feelings to deal with.
Finally, he spoke, his voice breaking. "Are you abandoning me too?"
Connor froze, his body tensing.
Why would Tom say something like that? Wasn't this emotional manipulation?
"Tom, you still have your cousin. You have family. Go bother Ethan—he has plenty of relatives. Please?"
Connor was practically begging. He just wanted to be alone.
"I don't want to leave. I'm used to living here," Tom insisted stubbornly. "What's bothering you? Can I help? Don't make me go."
He didn't want to return home. Without his parents, that house would only make him miserable.
"I've learned to clean, scrub toilets, take out the trash, cook..." Tom's voice cracked.
For a spoiled rich kid who had never done chores before, these were significant accomplishments.
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