"The keys to the others are in the bedroom drawer. You can drive any car in this garage, but not this one."
Gillian drew a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm.
"What? Is it because the car belonged to Xavier? You can't bear to let it go? Do you like him?"
"No!"
York chuckled softly. "Good."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away with her keys.
Gillian closed her eyes, glaring at his retreating back.
He was ruthlessly stripping away even her basic right to own her own vehicle.
Pulling out her phone, she searched for a locksmith.
The locksmith explained that due to the car's older model, the specific key had to be shipped from another location, and it would take three days.
Gillian agreed.
-
After the holidays.
Mrs. Jordan's condition had drastically improved, stabilizing completely. In about a week, she would be well enough to go home to recover, needing only regular checkups, though she had the option to remain in the facility for continued care.
For Gillian, this was incredible news.
It meant she could finally break away from York—free from his suffocating threats.
Miles had informed her that her mother's neurological damage would never fully revert to how it was before, but it could be managed to prevent further deterioration.
With proper rest and care, she would seem completely normal most of the time, aside from occasional moments of confusion.
"How have you been lately?" Miles asked, looking at Gillian. "I've been swamped with back-to-back meetings."
"I've been okay."
"I heard things have been rough for you at the hospital." Miles's eyes were as gentle as always. "Are you looking for investors to open your own clinic?"
Gillian nodded. "Word travels fast."

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