Cedric Clarke thought Stewart was being more than a little paranoid.
From his perspective, Briony absolutely loathed Stewart at this point. If she really was pregnant, given the state of things between them, there was no way she’d keep the baby. Yet Stewart wouldn’t let it go–he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Cedric worried Stewart might go off the rails again because of this, so he reluctantly agreed to run the errand on his behalf.
Dean’s Office.
Cedric relayed Stewart’s request to Quentin.
Quentin listened with a raised brow, his tone cool. “Stewart seems awfully invested in this Ms. Kensington, doesn’t he?”
Cedric’s eyelid twitched. “You can ask Stewart yourself. The man’s a vault. I’ve known him for years and he’s. barely shared a thing with me.”
Quentin gave a short laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever been thrilled with him as a brother–in–law, but Rosita likes him. As her big brother, I’ve learned to let some things slide.”
Cedric thought privately, That’s rich–your brother–in–law isn’t exactly your biggest fan either!
Quentin said no more, just picked up the phone and dialed the extension for IT. “Dr. Clarke will be over soon. Help him pull some files.”
When he hung up, he glanced at Cedric. “Tell Stewart he owes me another favor.”
Cedric’s mouth twitched. “Noted.”
As soon as he stepped out of the dean’s office, Cedric rolled his eyes skyward.
What a smooth operator.
Inside the office, Quentin opened a drawer and pulled out a medical file.
It was the original, unaltered version.
Patient name: Briony.
Quentin lit a cigarette, took a few slow drags, then picked up his phone and dialed Rosita.
She answered after a few rings, her voice gentle. “Quentin?”
“Rosita, Stewart’s been in an accident.”
“An accident?” Rosita’s voice sharpened with panic. “How? Is he–how bad is it?”
Quentin soothed her. “Don’t worry. He was rushed to the hospital in time. He’s not in any danger.”
“Send me his room number, please. I’m coming over right now.”
“Of course.”
After hanging up, Quentin texted her the details.
Then he set his phone aside and pushed his gold–rimmed glasses up his nose.
Behind the glass, his brown eyes were cold and unreadable. “Stewart, for your sake, you’d better not let Rosita down. Otherwise..”
He swept Briony’s medical file aside and revealed another document beneath it–a personnel file.
A photo was paperclipped to the top: Stella, bright–eyed, with a gentle smile and a pair of dimples.
Chapter 117
“A sweet kid,” Quentin murmured, lips curling into a faint smile. He stubbed out his cigarette directly on the photograph.
The acrid scent of burning paper filled the office as his voice drifted through the smoke, low and menacing. “Shame, really. But I’ll have to start with you.”
By the time Rosita found Stewart’s room, he was on the phone.
When he saw her, he spoke briskly into the receiver. “Keep searching. Widen the perimeter.” Then he hung up.
“Stewart.” Rosita hurried to his bedside, eyes brimming with tears. “How could you be so careless? You’re hurt so badly–I was terrified when I heard…”
“Just an accident,” Stewart replied, his voice gravelly and cool. “Who told you?”
“My brother called me.” Rosita ducked her head, sniffling. “You should have told me yourself. If he hadn’t called, I still wouldn’t know.”
Stewart didn’t look at her, nor did he answer.
Rosita paused, feeling the tension in the room. Stewart’s mood seemed particularly grim.
“I took some time off work,” she offered quietly. “I’ll stay here and take care of you while you’re in the hospital, okay?”
“No.” Stewart’s refusal was immediate. “Don’t tell Irwin about my injuries. While I’m here, spend more time with him.”
“But what about you? You’re seriously hurt–you can’t be alone.”
“There are doctors and nurses here. Carl will hire a professional caregiver.”
His tone left no room for argument. Rosita wiped her tears and nodded, quietly agreeing.
Chapter 118
