Chapitre 229
Julie’s POV
He was demanding that I leave the club if I truly loved him. He sat in his wheelchair directly in my line of sight, as if trying to corner me with his physical frailty and the weight of his influence.
"You want me to leave the club?" I asked, my voice dry and calm.
"Yes," he replied with unyielding severity.
I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to stifle the trembling in my body. "So, you’re trying to convince me that if I truly loved Robert, I’d abandon him?"
"Exactly," he answered with a lethal coldness.
I looked him straight in the eye. I felt a surging urge to scream, but instead, I simply asked, "Mr. Thomas, are you even aware of what you’re asking of me?"
He pointed a finger at me, his eyes filled with malice. "You are the reason he’s in this state!"
I took a step toward him, ignoring the aura of authority he wrapped around himself. "And you want to exploit my guilt to make me leave your son. You are very much mistaken, Mr. Thomas."
"Do you intend to end his life?" he asked irritably, glancing toward the operating room doors.
I clenched my fists. "I intend to spend my life with him. And because I love him, I cannot leave him."
He scoffed pessimistically. "He met you yesterday and already took a bullet in the back. I wonder what will happen after a month?"
I smiled bitterly and replied with a boldness that made him stiffen. "Don’t wonder, Mr. Thomas. You might not be around long enough to get that answer."
His features twitched. His hands shook against the armrests of his chair. "Are you implying that I’m going to die?"
"No one knows when they will die," I said indifferently. "But we can recognize those who are close to it."
He regained his cold exterior, giving me a calculating look. "Just as I expected. You aren’t easy at all."
I sighed in frustration. "You know, if Robert weren’t in there right now, I would be laughing out loud at your words."
He raised an eyebrow. "You find my words funny?"
"Very. Because you think I would leave him just because he got shot for me."
"I thought you possessed some humanity," he remarked sarcastically.
"You cannot demand what you do not possess yourself, Mr. Thomas," I retorted sharply.
Signs of exhaustion began to show on his face, but he pressed on. "So, you won’t leave my son even though he almost died?"
"No," I said firmly. "Because now, I love him even more."
"What do you want from him?" he asked with disdain. "Money?"
I let out a long, weary sigh. "Stop it, please. Are we really going to play the ’Rich Man and Poor Girl’ game? Are you going to offer me a staggering sum to leave your son? Is this truly your final move?"
He huffed, twisting his mustache, then spoke in a businesslike tone. "Fine. Perhaps we can reach an agreement. What is it you want?"
"I want Robert," I said without hesitation.
"My son won’t stay with you," he replied bitterly. "He will leave you in the end."
I gave him a wide, confident smile. "Shall I tell you something? Take those words of yours and put them... right back in..."
I paused. He stared at me, eyes wide, anticipating the profanity he expected to follow. But I finished coldly, "...in your mouth. And keep it shut, Mr. Thomas."


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