Chapter 75 An Expensive Lunch
The waiter stood patiently by the table, his notepad in hand.
Veyra held up a finger. "Just one moment, please."
The waiter nodded and stepped back.
Dr. Harrison looked at her. His eyes were still tired, but there was a flicker of curiosity.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "You asked why Xie Heng didn’t just register. The answer is simple. My appointment schedule is booked six months in advance. Every Monday. Every slot. Filled."
Veyra’s eyes widened. "Six months?"
"Six months. Sometimes longer." He shook his head. "I am one of the few cardiologists in the city who still sees patients directly. No layers of residents. No fellows. No assistants. Just me."
"So Xie Heng couldn’t get an appointment even if he wanted to?"
"He could. Six months from now." Dr. Harrison’s voice was dry. "But his mother does not have six months. She has maybe a year. And she has already been waiting."
Veyra’s mind raced.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
Xie Heng’s desperation. His rage. His willingness to kidnap a doctor. His public kneeling. It was not just pride. It was not just arrogance. It was fear.
His mother was dying. And the only man who could save her was booked solid for half a year.
She understood now.
And in that understanding, she saw something else. A way to control him.
Her heart pounded. Her hands tingled.
"Dr. Harrison," she said, her voice low and excited. "I have an idea."
She leaned forward. Her elbows were on the table. Her eyes were bright.
"I need you to do me a favor," she said.
Dr. Harrison raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"
"I need you to help Xie Heng’s mother get medical treatment."
Dr. Harrison’s expression did not change. But his eyes sharpened.
"You want me to treat her."
"Yes."
"After everything I told you? The kidnapping? The threats? The harassment?"
"Yes."
Dr. Harrison was quiet for a long moment. He picked up his water glass. He took a sip. He set it down.
Then he said, "Xie Heng has caused trouble for you, hasn’t he?"
Veyra hesitated. Then she nodded.
"He threatened Aunt Chen. The woman who helped find Lily." Her voice was steady. "He tried to force her daughter into marriage. He slapped her. He threatened to destroy her shop."
Dr. Harrison’s jaw tightened.
"He doesn’t know who I am," Veyra continued. "He doesn’t know I’m married to Dorian Thorne. He thinks I’m just a woman who got lucky with an empty gun."
"And you want to keep it that way."
"I don’t want to rely on my husband’s power to solve this problem." Veyra’s voice was firm. "I want to handle it myself."
Dr. Harrison studied her. His eyes were unreadable.
"That is unusual," he said.
"I know."
"Most women in your position would have already called their husband. Let him deal with the problem. Let his money and influence make Xie Heng disappear."
"I’m not most women."
Dr. Harrison’s mouth twitched. Almost a smile.
"No," he said. "You are not."
Veyra leaned back. She folded her hands on the table.
"If you’re not willing to help," she said, "I’ll find another way. I don’t want to pressure you. You’ve already done so much for me."
Dr. Harrison was silent.
Veyra continued. "I have other options. I could ask Li Wei to find a different doctor. I could ask Dorian’s people to intervene. I could even try to reason with Xie Heng myself."
She paused.
"But I came to you first because I trust you. And because you’re the best. And because his mother doesn’t deserve to die just because her son is a monster."
Dr. Harrison’s face darkened.
Veyra saw the shadows gather around his eyes. The lines on his forehead deepened.
She thought he was going to refuse.
Her heart sank.
"I’m sorry," she said quickly. "I shouldn’t have asked. Forget I said anything."
She started to reach for her bag.
"Sit down, Mrs. Thorne."
She stopped.
"Sit down."
She sat.
Dr. Harrison looked at her. His face was still dark, but his eyes were soft.
"You are different," he said. "Most people would have begged. Cried. Manipulated. You simply asked. And when you thought I would say no, you accepted it."
Veyra said nothing.
"Xie Heng’s mother does not deserve to die because her son is a monster." Dr. Harrison sighed. "I will help."
Veyra’s heart leaped. "Really?"
"Really. But I have conditions."
Veyra’s excitement dimmed slightly. "What conditions?"
Dr. Harrison held up his hand. "I will tell you after the matter is settled. When Xie Heng’s mother is stable. When the treatment is underway."
Veyra frowned. "You want me to agree to something without knowing what it is?"
"Yes."
"That’s not fair."
"Life is not fair." Dr. Harrison’s voice was gentle but firm. "You came to me asking for a favor. A big favor. I am agreeing to help you. In return, I am asking you to trust me."
Veyra was quiet for a moment. She studied his face. The kindness in his eyes. The lines around his mouth. He had never given her a reason to distrust him.
"Okay," she said. "I agree."
Dr. Harrison nodded. "Then we have a deal."
He extended his hand across the table and Veyra shook it, his grip was warm. Firm.
Dr. Harrison withdrew his hand. He glanced at the waiter, who was still standing at a respectful distance.
"Well," Dr. Harrison said, "I believe we are finished here."
He reached for the leather folder that held the bill.
Veyra’s hand shot out. She covered the folder with her palm.
"No," she said. "I’m paying. I insisted."
Dr. Harrison raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Thorne—"
"I invited you to lunch. I asked you to meet me. I’m paying." Her voice was firm. "Please. Let me do this."
Dr. Harrison looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled.
"You are stubborn."
"So I’ve been told."
He released the folder. He stood up.
"Very well. I need to use the restroom. I will be back shortly."
He walked toward the back of the restaurant.
Veyra watched him go. Then she turned to the waiter.
"The bill, please," she said.
The waiter approached. He picked up the leather folder. He opened it. He placed it on the table in front of Veyra.
"The total is eighteen thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand, madam," he said. "Including service charge."
Veyra blinked.
She thought she had misheard.
"I’m sorry," she said. "Could you repeat that?"
The waiter smiled politely. "Eighteen thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand, madam."
Veyra’s mouth went dry.
She looked down at her bag. Inside was the envelope with six thousand thousand. Six thousand. All the money she had scraped together.
Eighteen thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight.
She had less than a third of that.
Her hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against her thighs under the table.