Chapter 6 - The Man Everyone Feared
Six months later, Molly was walking through Hale Foundation Medical Center when Grant approached.
“Problem.”
“What happened?”
“Vincent is refusing treatment.”
Molly closed her eyes.
“Of course he is.”
She entered a private examination room.
Vincent sat on the edge of the bed with his jacket beside him.
A doctor stood nearby looking exhausted.
Molly folded her arms.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
The doctor pointed at him.
“He needs stitches.”
Vincent frowned.
“It’s a scratch.”
Molly examined the cut near his eyebrow.
“That is not a scratch.”
“I have a meeting.”
“You have stitches.”
“Molly.”
“Vincent.”
Grant quietly left the room.
The doctor followed.
Vincent stared at the closed door.
“They’re afraid of you.”
“They’re afraid of you.”
“Apparently not enough.”
Molly prepared the medical tray.
Vincent watched her.
“You enjoy this.”
“Enormously.”
“You’re enjoying ordering me around.”
“Even more.”
She cleaned the cut.
He winced.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“You’re glaring.”
“That doesn’t involve movement.”
She smiled.
Six months had changed many things.
Simon Vale had accepted a plea agreement after investigators uncovered a network of hospital fraud.
Daniel Cross’s family received a formal apology.
Molly’s professional record was completely restored.
Arthur opened a small restaurant with Evan.
And Molly transformed patient safety at Hale Medical.
But something else had changed too.
Vincent visited constantly.
Sometimes with legitimate reasons.
Usually without them.
Molly finished the bandage.
“There.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Dinner tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Friday?”
“Maybe.”
“That means yes.”
“That means maybe.”
He stood.
“Molly.”
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
His tone changed.
She stopped.
Vincent Hale suddenly looked uncomfortable.
That was terrifying.
“What?”
“I bought the restaurant.”
Molly stared at him.
“What restaurant?”
“The one where we met.”
“You bought Bellmont?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It was for sale.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Vincent handed her an envelope.
Inside were ownership documents.
Molly read the first page.
Then froze.
Her name appeared beside his.
“Vincent.”
“You saved my life there.”
“So you bought me half a restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“That is insane.”
“Probably.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want that place to become something different.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“A training restaurant.”
“For?”
“People rebuilding careers.”
Former inmates.
Single parents.
Workers recovering from financial disasters.
Medical workers whose careers had been damaged unfairly.
Molly stared at him.
“You planned this?”
“You gave me the idea.”
“When?”
“When you told me money, lawyers, and connections change the meaning of fighting back.”
She remembered saying it.
Vincent continued.
“I have all three.”
Molly’s expression softened.
“So use them properly.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at him.
“Who are you?”
Vincent smiled.
“You’re the one who asked for better behavior.”
“I never expected you to listen.”
“That was your mistake.”
Molly laughed.
Then Vincent became serious.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I’m not offering you the restaurant because you saved my life.”
“Good.”
“I’m offering because I want you in mine.”
Molly stopped smiling.
Vincent Hale—the man politicians avoided angering and businessmen crossed streets to avoid—looked genuinely nervous.
“Was that your attempt at romance?”
“Yes.”
“It needs work.”
“I suspected that.”
Molly stepped closer.
“Friday.”
“What?”
“Dinner.”
Vincent smiled.
“Seven?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Seven.”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Fine.”
She pointed toward the door.
“Now go to your meeting.”
He obeyed.
Grant was waiting outside.
He stared at Vincent.
“You listened to her?”
Vincent adjusted his jacket.
“Grant.”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Never mention that again.”
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