“You actually dared to kill someone?” Chantelle stormed up to Andrew, her chest heaving with rage as she shouted, “You do know that murder is a crime, right?”
Andrew replied flatly, “Then go ahead and arrest me. But you saw it, too – this dead mutt barged into my company with a gang of thugs and trashed the place. He kidnapped my secretary, tortured her, and tried to get away with it.”
Chantelle fumed. “You had every right to fight back, but you had no right to kill him, do you understand?”
Andrew’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Ms. Garcia, that’s enough! So what if I killed him? The guy came stomping into my space, and I’m supposed to just roll over and play dead?”
Chantelle let out a bitter laugh and hissed, “Andrew, Mr. McCormick favored you. You’ve got incredible medical skills, and in Blumedale, you were this close to making your mark. You had a bright future ahead of you–respect, success, everything within reach. But why would you throw it all away like this? Don’t you see you’re ruining yourself?”
Andrew stared at her coldly. “The Haywoods? To me, they’re nothing. And I don’t need you telling me how to run my life. Oh, and by the way–remember back at my house? Weren’t you hoping I’d lay a hand on you so you could kill me and call it self-defense?”
Chantelle snapped, “That was in the past! Why bring it up now?”
Andrew’s voice dropped. “No reason—just wanted you to understand something. If I ever had laid a hand on you, you wouldn’t have walked out. You would’ve been pinned beneath me and left with nothing. So don’t think that being Mr. McCormick’s secretary makes you untouchable. If I wanted to deal with you, you wouldn’t end up much better than Seth.”
Chantelle was shaking now, furious and humiliated. “You bastard! I was trying to help you, and this is how you repay me? You wanna fight?”
Andrew scoffed. “Fight you? I’d break you.”
Then, his gaze turned cold as ice while sweeping across the remaining Haywood enforcers. “Take Seth’s body and get the hell out of here. Tell the Haywoods to get their facts straight before they come barking at my door again. If they keep trying to flex their power, or if they so much as touch my people or my company again, I won’t be sending back just a corpse to them.”
The men scrambled to lift Seth’s body, trembling in fear as they rushed out of Supreme Capital Group. Chantelle’s expression shifted, uncertain and tense. “I’ll talk to Mr. McCormick right now and see if he can help you out of this mess. But listen to me–you absolutely cannot afford to lose control like this again.”
Andrew did not respond. To him, everything Chantelle was doing now was just noise.
“Come here. Let me see your face,” he called out to Aspen.
Her cheek was still swollen, with delicate skin split in a few places. She shook her head and replied stiffly, “I’m fine. I don’t need you fussing over me.”
Andrew frowned. “I told you to come here. Or are you ignoring my orders now?”
Aspen bit her lip, silently cursing, “Damn it, Andrew! Why do you have to be so bossy!”
Still, she walked toward him without protest.
Andrew reached out and gently touched her wound, causing her to suck in a sharp breath from the sting. She glared up at him and hissed, “What the hell was that for?”
“It’s just a surface wound,” Andrew said calmly. “Let’s go. I'll patch you up – shouldn’t leave a scar if we treat it fast.”
As they passed by Chantelle, Aspen caught her murmuring something laced with meaning. “Ms. Stevens, your boss seems awfully concerned about you.”