Chapter 1137
“Dr. Lake, if you want to add more, go ahead,” Richard replied coldly over the phone. “Money talks–and the more you offer, the faster that punk dies.”
“Andrew, going up against Mosby brings you nothing but trouble,” Chantelle said with a frown as they drove.
Andrew’s tone turned sharp. “He’s the one who keeps provoking me–I didn’t ask for this.”
Chantelle shook her head. “Even so, you should’ve handled it with more discretion. Mosby’s been in Blumedale for years. His connections, his influence–you can’t just sweep that aside. Even if you want to challenge his reputation in the medical field, it doesn’t have to happen overnight.”
Andrew scoffed. “Mosby? A respected authority? Let me be blunt, Ms. Garcia–you won’t believe me, but to me, Mosby’s just another loudmouthed nobody.”
Chantelle blinked, then let out a laugh, though it was laced with anger. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
Sure, Andrew had performed brilliantly today by saving George, and it was indeed an impressive feat. However, to disregard Mosby altogether after just one success? To her, that was not confidence–it was arrogance. He was bound to crash and burn at this rate.
“This isn’t the route back to the government office, is it?” Andrew asked, glancing at her sideways with a knowing smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten–we’re supposed to be heading to my place.”
Chantelle slammed on the brakes right there in the middle of traffic. Ignoring the honking horns and shouting from surrounding drivers, she turned and glared at him coldly. “You seriously still want to see my body?”
Andrew shook his head. “No. I have zero interest in your body. I just want you to honor your word. A bet’s a bet. You lost–so keep up your end of the deal.”
Chantelle gritted her teeth. “Andrew, do you have any idea how badly I want to kill you right now?”
Andrew spread his hands. “Go ahead and kill me. But once I’m dead, Mr. McCormick will find out. You’re his official secretary. Breaking your word and covering up a murder? That’s treason. And let’s not forget–Logan is my sworn brother now. You can try to take me out, but do you really think the Keller family will just let that slide?”
Each word hit its mark. Chantelle’s expression shifted again and again as the weight of Andrew’s words sank in. This bastard knew exactly where to strike. As Derek’s secretary, what she valued most was his trust. If there was one thing Derek despised, it was dishonesty.
She snapped, “Fine. I’ll strip. You can stare all you want. Take a good, long look. Enjoy it. But you better bury this moment deep in your damn stomach. If this ever gets out or if you so much as hint about it to Mr. McCormick, I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth.”
Her tone was venomous, her glare filled with hate. Backed into a corner like a deer surrounded by wolves, Chantelle had run out of exits. She had tried to find a loophole, a way out–but Andrew was not budging. So, unless he miraculously changed his mind, she had only two choices: beg for mercy or follow through. Yet, Andrew was the kind of man who would rather laugh at a forest fire than bend. Hence, she had no choice but to strip before him. Just the thought of it made her feel ridiculous–like she had stepped into a nightmare she could not wake up from.
The car sped along, silent and tense, until they finally arrived at the top of The Sovereign Residences.
Chantelle eyed the grand building suspiciously. “You seriously live here? Did you rob someone to get in?”
Andrew responded flatly, “You really aren’t as smart as you look, Ms. Garcia. Are you seriously still trying to mouth off at this point? Clearly, being nice to you was a mistake.”
He shoved her lightly on the back and pushed her through the front door of the villa.
Chantelle spun around, furious. “Andrew! What the hell are you doing?”
Andrew’s voice was calm and cold. “Strip.”