Chapter 211 - 210 The Cost of a Favor 2
ALISTAIR
Celia Wolfe is retreating.
I watch my grandmother walk toward the exit. She looks perfectly healthy. The sudden migraine is a blatant, transparent lie. She witnessed the physical interaction between Emily and me, and her aristocratic sensibilities simply could not process the reality. She is abandoning the battlefield to regroup.
I will not allow her to leave without securing my objective. I promised Emily I would dismantle the matriarch’s objections regarding her education, and I never leave a promise unfulfilled.
I stand up from my chair.
"Before you retire to your quarters, Grandmother," I call out, my voice easily carrying across the massive dining room. "You should be aware of a slight change to the household schedule."
Celia stops near the heavy wooden doors. She turns slowly, her dark eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. "What schedule change?"
I slide my hands into the pockets of my tailored navy suit trousers. I project total, absolute confidence.
"Emily will not be confined to the estate during the daylight hours," I state clearly. "She recently received her official letter of acceptance. She will be attending Etland Medical University this semester to complete her degree in pharmacology."
The silence stretches for three long seconds.
Celia drops Greyson’s arm. Her face twists into a mask of pure, unfiltered outrage. Vanguard is the most elite, exclusive medical institution in the entire country. The children of senators and billionaires spend their entire lives preparing for the entrance exams.
"You bought her a seat," Celia accuses, her voice rising to a harsh, furious pitch. "You wrote a massive check to the university board of directors to secure a vanity degree for your wife. It is a pathetic, transparent abuse of our corporate capital."
"I did not spend a single dollar of Zeus Group capital," I reply smoothly. I walk around the edge of the table, closing the distance between us. "The admissions board granted Emily a rare, unconditional exception. They bypassed the standard entrance exams entirely based on her independent research credentials."
Celia scoffs loudly. "Research credentials? She is a child from the slums."
"She is the primary architect of SN1818," I state, dropping the classified medical designation directly into the open air.
Celia freezes completely.
I watch the blood drain from her wrinkled face. Twelve months ago, my grandmother suffered a catastrophic myocardial infarction. Her heart tissue was failing rapidly. The finest cardiologists in Asuir City gave her less than a week to live. We deployed an experimental, highly classified cardiovascular peptide synthesized in a private laboratory to repair the damaged tissue. The drug saved her life.
"Emily formulated the chemical structure of that peptide," I explain, driving the point home with ruthless precision. "She developed the compound in a basement laboratory with virtually zero corporate funding. The Vanguard medical board reviewed her methodology and immediately offered her a full enrollment. She earned her seat, Grandmother. She actually possesses the intelligence you continually claim she lacks."
Celia stares at me, completely speechless. She hates Emily Vance with every fiber of her being. But Celia is also fiercely pragmatic. She cannot refute the concrete medical facts, and she certainly cannot deny that she owes her continued existence to the very girl she just tried to humiliate.
She pivots her argument, desperately searching for a new angle of attack.
"She is pregnant with the Wolfe heir," Celia argues, pointing a trembling finger toward the dining table. "Etland Medical University is a public campus. It is chaotic and filled with thousands of unpredictable civilians. She will be exposed to stress, physical danger, and foreign pathogens. I absolutely forbid the heir to this empire from being subjected to that environment."
"The pregnancy is in the early stages," I counter effortlessly. "Her obstetrician confirmed that attending lectures will not interfere with her physical health in any capacity."
"And the security risks?" Celia demands.
"I have already neutralized the security risks," I inform her, checking my silver wristwatch to signal the end of the debate. "Leo is officially reassigned from standard estate duty. He will operate as Emily’s permanent, shadows detail. He will follow her to every single class. He will secure the perimeter of every lecture hall she enters. She will be perfectly safe."
I look directly into Celia’s eyes. I offer absolutely no room for negotiation. "The arrangements are finalized. She starts classes next week."
Celia realizes she has absolutely no remaining ammunition. She is completely outmaneuvered. She glares at me with a toxic mixture of defeat and pure fury. She turns sharply on her heel and marches out the heavy double doors, leaving Greyson scrambling to catch up with her rapid pace.
EMILY
The heavy wooden doors click shut. The echoing footsteps fade down the marble corridor.
I sit at the mahogany table, completely stunned.
I look at Alistair. He stands near the exit, adjusting the cuffs of his expensive navy suit. He just waged a brutal, flawless psychological war against his own grandmother entirely on my behalf. He shielded me from her corporate trap, and he systematically destroyed every single objection she held regarding my education.
He actually kept his promise.
Alistair turns around and walks back toward the table. The intense, commanding CEO vanishes, replaced by the man who just wiped my mouth with his bare hand.
I feel incredibly awkward. My cheeks still carry a faint, residual heat. I look down at my hands, twisting my fingers together in my lap. I need to acknowledge what he just did.
"Thank you, Alistair," I say quietly. I raise my head to meet his dark eyes. "I appreciate you defending my academic credentials. Vanguard is very important to me."
"You earned the seat, Emily," Alistair replies, stopping a few feet away from my chair. "I merely provided the facts to silence her complaints."
He looks at me for a long moment. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken tension.
"However," Alistair says, his voice dropping into a low, smooth register. "I did promise to deliver your reward. I believe a transaction requires fair compensation."
I blink, slightly confused. "Compensation? What exactly do you want?"
Alistair slides his hands into his pockets. He looks perfectly serious. "I would like a cup of milk tea. Handmade by you."
I stare at him. My brain struggles to process the request. Just a week ago, he took a cup of my handmade milk tea and threw it directly into a steel wastebasket. He discarded the peace offering with calculated cruelty. Now, he is standing in the formal dining room, demanding the exact same beverage as a reward for his political assistance.
His behavior today is incredibly strange. He is oscillating wildly between terrifying corporate authority and strange, domestic warmth.
"You want milk tea," I repeat slowly, testing the words.
"I do," Alistair confirms. He checks his watch again. "But unfortunately, I am currently running late for a quarterly board meeting at the Zeus Group headquarters. The acquisitions department requires a severe reprimand."
He turns around and begins to walk toward the grand foyer. He offers no further explanation for his bizarre request.
I sit in the chair for two seconds. The estate kitchen is stocked with truffles and expensive caviar, but it absolutely lacks the commercial-grade tapioca pearls and the specific roasted tea leaves required for my recipe. I cannot fulfill his request today.
I stand up quickly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. I jog out of the dining room, my low heels clicking sharply against the marble tiles.
I catch up to him in the massive grand foyer, just as he reaches for the brass handle of the front door.
"Alistair, wait," I call out.
He stops and turns around, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I cannot make the tea for you today," I explain, catching my breath. "I do not have the proper ingredients here at the estate. I can only make it for you once my new shop officially opens next month. The commercial suppliers are delivering the inventory in three weeks. Is that acceptable?"
I look up at him. Without realizing it, a genuine, completely unburdened smile spreads across my face. The heavy weight of Celia Wolfe’s disapproval is gone. My future at Vanguard is entirely secure. For the first time in weeks, I feel a true sense of optimistic freedom.
Alistair looks down at me. The sharp, guarded angles of his face soften completely. He stares at my smile, and a quiet, profound happiness reflects in his own dark eyes.
"That is perfectly acceptable, Emily," Alistair says softly. He reaches out, lightly touching my shoulder. "Let me know if you require any financial or logistical assistance with the shop renovations. I have contractors on retainer."
"I will," I promise.
He nods once, turns around, and walks out the heavy front doors.
ALISTAIR
The morning sun is blinding as I step out onto the expansive gravel driveway.
𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺
Jackson stands beside the rear door of the armored black sedan. He pulls the heavy, bulletproof door open. I slide into the luxurious leather interior. Jackson shuts the door securely and climbs into the driver’s seat, shifting the massive vehicle into gear.
The sedan rolls smoothly away from the front steps of the Wolfe Estate.
I lean back against the plush leather headrest. The quiet hum of the engine isolates me from the outside world. I look out the tinted window, watching the manicured green lawns of the estate blur past.
I lift my right hand.
I press my thumb against the pad of my index finger. I close my eyes. I can still feel the exact, soft texture of her bottom lip against my calloused skin. I can still feel the sudden, terrified spike of heat radiating from her jawline.
I rub my fingers together slowly, completely ignoring the massive corporate disasters waiting for me at the Zeus Group headquarters. I sit in the quiet darkness of the car, entirely captivated, savoring the memory of her touch.