At the hospital, a doctor in his fifties adjusted his glasses and looked up from his file.
"You must be Samantha Jones."
"Yes. These are my friends...they're like family."
"That's good," he nodded. "I'm Dr. David Moore."
He glanced back at the file. "From what I see, this isn't the first incident. He should've managed his condition better."
The girls stiffened.
"I mean...his condition's manageable. If he follows his doctor's instructions," he added quickly.
"Is he better now?" Samantha asked.
"Yes. Mild heart attack. It could've been avoided if he'd listened to his doctor. But rich men rarely do."
"Doctor, do you hate rich people or something?" Natalie asked sharply.
He chuckled nervously. "Of course not. I was explaining."
"Then explain. What exactly is his condition?" she snapped.
Samantha nudged her under the table. "Let it go."
Natalie huffed but didn't back down.
"He fainted in front of his office," Dr. Moore said. "Luckily, someone acted fast. He's stable now."
"For now?" Samantha echoed quietly. That was all she heard. For now. He could relapse. He wasn't safe yet.
Her voice shook. "What do we do next? What treatment? We'll pay...whatever it takes."
"You rich people-" he started, then caught himself. "Money isn't the problem. He's getting the best care. He just has to follow through."
Natalie opened her mouth again, but Samantha shook her head.
"Whatever you say...whatever he needs...we'll do it," she said firmly.
"That's good to hear." He smiled. "I heard you're getting married next month. Focus on that. A happy occasion will help reduce his stress."
Samantha nodded faintly. "Yeah. It'll give him something to look forward to."
[|]
Catherine and Natalie stepped out of the hospital room, followed by a young female nurse. Sam approached them, holding a small paper bag.
"I got his medication," Sam said.
She reached for the door, but the nurse stopped her. "Are you Miss Samantha Jones?"
"Yes, I am."
"I'm sorry, you can't enter the room. Your father specifically said we should stop you from entering."
Sam was stunned. Catherine and Natalie looked equally bewildered.
"You didn't stop us," Catherine said, gesturing at the door they had just exited.
"Yes, I didn't, because he only said Miss Samantha was banned from his room."
"I'm his daughter." Sam clenched her teeth, her voice dangerously low. "How dare you!"
"Exactly...what is all this?" Natalie added, frowning.
The nurse gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but I'm only following the patient's instruc-"
Sam pushed the nurse aside and reached for the door. The nurse quickly grabbed the doorknob and shut it back.
Sam glared at her. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave, or I'll call security," the nurse said, remaining composed and professional.
"Get out of my way!" Sam shoved her again.
Catherine quickly stepped between them. "Oh-"
"What are you doing?" the nurse asked Catherine, who was trying to squeeze her way in.
Natalie smirked and positioned herself on the other side of the nurse, boxing her in. "Nurse, you're stepping on my shoes."
"Will you stay out of my way?" the nurse snapped, reaching for the door just as she noticed Sam slipping into the room. "You can't go in there."
The twins kept blocking her path.
[|]
Inside the room, Sam walked toward the bed. "Dad, why do you look so pale?" she asked, noticing Frederick awake but weak.
"I thought I told them I didn't want to see any visitors," Frederick groaned.
"I'm your daughter, not some visitor!"
The door opened. "I'm sorry, sir, she let herself in," the nurse said, trying to usher Sam out. "Miss Samantha, please leave. The patient needs absolute rest."
Sam stared at her father. "Should I leave?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Dad, tell me...should I leave?"
Frederick turned to face her, his eyes hard. Suddenly, he clutched his chest in pain.
Sam's eyes widened.
Why?! Why is this happening again? She cried, watching him groan in pain.
"Is it the wedding? Fine, I'm staying. I'm not leaving New York. Do you want me to get married today? I will do it!"
Her words tumbled over each other in a panic. The nurse pushed Sam aside and rushed to Frederick's side.
"Where's the pain? How do you feel?" she asked, adjusting the drip.
Frederick chuckled weakly. "It's a normal pain. The doctor said I might feel sudden episodes like this. I'm fine now."
The nurse examined the stats and sighed in relief. "You're stable for now. Let's keep you that way. I'll ask your guest to leave."
"Don't worry. She can stay," Frederick said.
"But-"
"I'll be fine. She's my daughter. She won't harm me."
The nurse hesitated, then nodded and quietly exited.
A long silence followed, the air thick between them.
"Did you mean what you said?" Frederick finally asked.
"Which part?" Sam asked softly. The fight had drained out of her.
"You said you wouldn't leave and would marry quickly if needed."
"I said that, didn't I?" She rolled her eyes. "So, tell me what you want. What will put your mind at ease?"
Frederick stared at her. "You're serious?"
"What? Don't you believe me?"
"I'll believe you...starting now," he said. "Have dinner with your in-laws today."
"What? But--"
He tilted his head and gave her a pointed look.
"Fine, I'll go," Sam muttered.
"You're serious?" Frederick sat up, eyes narrowing.
"I'm not going back on my word. I'll go wherever you want if it makes you feel better." She shrugged.
"What kind of stunt are you trying to pull now? We need this relationship to work, Sam. No funny business."
Sam sighed deeply. "I agreed to do what you want, but now you're accusing me of stunts. Relax. I'm not trying to pull anything. I'll go to the stupid dinner with my future in-laws."
She forced a smile.
Frederick clapped and laughed heartily. "That's my girl. I always knew you wouldn't let me down."
"Of course, I'd never let you down." Sam gently pushed him back onto the bed. "You should rest."
Frederick closed his eyes and finally drifted off peacefully.
[|]
The driver opened the door of the Bentley, and Samantha stepped out in a long black gown and short heels. She had chosen her outfit with a funeral theme in mind. She thanked the driver and walked toward the entrance of THE MANOR.
Classy, five-star, and expensive, the restaurant screamed taste and money.
The first thing Sam noticed was the lack of people. There were no customers, only a chef working in the corner. Then she saw him, one of the most handsome older men she'd ever seen, sitting by the window.
She didn't need anyone to tell her. That was James Rice, billionaire and owner of the Rice Corporation.
She smiled and walked toward his table. His kind eyes caught her off guard.
"You're Mr. James Rice," she said, more a question than a statement.
James nodded and smiled warmly. "Yes, I am. And you must be my elusive daughter-in-law."
Sam smiled. James looked impressive for a man in his late sixties — disarmingly charming.
"Yes, I am."
"Sit," he gestured.
She sat across from him, fingers clasped under the table, trying to hide her nerves.
His smile reminded her of something...something warm. Like being in Chris's arms a night ago. She shook the thought away. Funny, she hadn't thought about him since Vegas. There had been no time. Airport, hospital, home, change of clothes, and now dinner. This was the first moment she felt even remotely relaxed. Maybe that's why he came to mind.
James signaled the waiter, then glanced back at her, observing her silently.
She smiled nervously. She wasn't good at pretending.
"So, did you rent out the whole restaurant for this dinner?" she asked, needing to break the silence.
James laughed, waving his hand. "Goodness, no. I own this restaurant. I just told my employees to close for the day since we're dining here."
"Oh!" Samantha looked around again. "It's beautiful and classy. We could've dined somewhere else. I didn't mean to impose."
"Impose? Not at all. You're going to be my daughter-in-law. I can afford to close a restaurant for a day," he winked.
Sam chuckled. James talked with expressive gestures. It was oddly comforting. He had a presence that made people relax. Maybe that's why he was so successful, his ability to disarm opponents with warmth.
"Dave should be here soon. He had some work to attend to."
"Okay." Samantha bit her lip. "Um... I have a question. If you don't mind."
"Ask away."
"Your son, Dave... why do you?" You know... why do you want him?
"–to marry you even though neither of you wants to?" James finished for her.
Samantha nodded.
"The more time I spend with you, the more I like you," he said with a smile, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I like that you're a stubborn woman with a mind of your own."
"Huh?"
"That's just one of the reasons I like you. There are others," he said, grinning to himself.
"And what are those reasons?"
"He's here!" James waved excitedly.