"Over here, Master Thorne."
Nathaniel followed the sound of his voice. When his eyes locked onto Parrish and Seraphina, his fury spiked to a dangerous high.
He closed the distance instantly, his glare fixing on Parrish.
"Mr. York." The older man was trembling with rage, abandoning any pretense of polite society. "Serene Gardens no longer welcomes you. I expect you both to leave immediately and never disturb the peace of these heroes again."
Parrish swallowed his humiliation, desperate to salvage his dignity. "This was a severe misjudgment on my part. To make amends, I am prepared to donate a state-of-the-art fleet of medical equipment to the estate."
He had used the exact same tactic when trying to secure Seraphina's hospital placement—he threw money and equipment at the problem, and they had taken it. He fully expected Nathaniel to do the same.
But Nathaniel Thorne didn't care about his money. "Keep it!"
He practically spat the words. "Serene Gardens does not lack medical equipment, and we certainly do not want York money!"
Parrish's jaw clenched tight.
Nathaniel then turned his lethal glare onto Seraphina.
Under the crushing weight of his gaze, Seraphina shuddered, the last traces of color draining from her face.
"And you," Nathaniel's voice was absolute ice. "Before you learn to heal, you must learn ethics. A patient refused your care, and you commanded thugs to hold him down? You have zero respect for life. Gideon Graves has truly found himself a magnificent disciple."
Seraphina looked as though she might faint.
Parrish stepped forward, opening his mouth to argue, but Nathaniel was already barking orders at the estate's security.
"Throw them out!"
Two massive security guards immediately stepped in front of them. "Mr. York, Ms. Miller. Leave."
Parrish hadn't expected Nathaniel to be this uncompromising. He scoffed darkly, spinning on his heel to walk away.
But after two steps, he paused and looked back at Quentin.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: I Stopped Waiting and Started Loving