Chapter 159

The phone trembled in Alexander's grip as the anxious voice crackled through the receiver. "Mr. Hayes, we've hit a dead end. The boy's too clever—he sensed something was off and vanished. If we go after his mother now, it might blow up in our faces."

Alexander's knuckles whitened, his gaze turning glacial. "At this point, the world already sees me as the villain. What's left of my reputation to lose? Make the arrangements. I need to speak with him—face to face."

Just as he ended the call, another notification buzzed in—this time from Mercy Hospital. "Mr. Hayes, urgent update—William has regained consciousness."

All other concerns evaporated. Alexander slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car roaring toward the hospital.

Before he even reached the ward, the sound of dramatic sobbing reached his ears.

Eleanor's voice, thick with emotion, carried through the door. "Father, I was so afraid while you were unconscious. I swear I'll never disobey you again. I've brought Julian back with me—he'll take care of you now."

Alexander pushed the door open, his expression unreadable. There she was—Eleanor, clutching William's frail hand, tears streaming down her face. But to Alexander, her grief reeked of performance.

William looked fragile, a shadow of the formidable man he once was. His trembling hand reached for Eleanor, his eyes softening. "Eleanor..."

Tears welled in William's eyes. Despite everything, she was still his daughter. Age had a way of making family wounds ache less and love matter more.

Eleanor, seizing the moment, leaned in and whispered, "Daddy..."

For a second, Alexander wondered if he had imagined the woman who had once cursed William's name over a man.

Then Eleanor noticed him lingering in the doorway and flashed a saccharine smile. "Alexander, don't just stand there. Come in—your grandfather's been waiting for you."

Alexander strode forward, his expression dark. Eleanor resumed her theatrics. "Father, don't be upset. Alexander hasn't been able to visit much—he's been so busy. But look, he's here now. Such a devoted grandson."

Alexander's voice cut like ice. "Eleanor, you make it sound like you've been the one coordinating his treatments and consulting specialists day and night. All you've done is show up to cry and make a scene. What exactly have you contributed?"

Eleanor's sobs hitched mid-breath.

Her face flushed with humiliation.

"Alexander!" William snapped, his disapproval sharp. The outburst sent him into a coughing fit, his weakened body struggling.

Eleanor reached to steady him, but William recoiled.

Once he caught his breath, William's expression hardened. "I need to speak with Alexander alone. Leave us."

Eleanor hesitated, shooting a venomous glance at Alexander before slinking out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Alexander's composure fractured. His hands shook as he gripped William's. "Grandfather, how are you? If the treatments here aren't enough, we'll go abroad. We'll find a solution."

William shook his head, his stern features softening into a rare, tender smile. "I failed you when the family was in chaos. But you've proven yourself more than capable. The future of Whitmore Holdings is in good hands." He paused, his voice thick. "These past weeks... they couldn't have been easy for you."

Alexander turned his head sharply, blinking back the sting in his eyes.

William continued, his tone grave. "There's something I must ask of you. Your aunt has made mistakes, but she's still my daughter. If anything happens to me... I don't want her or Julian inheriting anything from the company. I've set aside private funds for them. They'll be taken care of."

Alexander stiffened. "Grandfather, have you forgotten what she said when she left with that man? If she cared even a little, she wouldn't have betrayed you like that. Are you really falling for her act?"

William sighed, his voice resolute. "I'm not blind. My vision may be fading, but my judgment isn't. But what choice do I have? She's still my blood. I spoiled her too much when she was young—never taught her right from wrong. That failure is mine."

Tears rolled down William's weathered cheeks.

Alexander's chest tightened. After a long silence, he swallowed his anger. He wouldn't burden William with Julian's schemes—not now. Not when the truth about Olivia would shatter him.

His jaw set, Alexander nodded. "As long as Julian and Eleanor stay out of trouble from now on, I'll treat them fairly."

William exhaled in relief, his grip loosening slightly.

Meanwhile, outside the ward, Eleanor paced like a caged animal, her nerves frayed.

She tried to slip back inside, but one of Alexander's bodyguards blocked her path.

Indignant, she hissed, "How dare you? I'm William Hayes' daughter! Since when do I need permission to see my own father?"

The guard remained impassive. "Apologies, ma'am. Orders from Mr. Hayes and Mr. William. No exceptions."

Another guard smirked. "We answer to the head of the Whitmore family. Are you the head?"

Eleanor's face twisted. With a furious huff, she stormed off toward another ward.

The moment she was alone, she dialed Julian, her voice trembling. "I did as you said. The old man was emotional—he even cried when he saw me. But then Alexander showed up, and they threw me out. What are they plotting in there? Do you think they're cutting us out?"

The thought sent a chill down her spine. She had just reclaimed her place in the Whitmore luxury—she couldn't lose it now.

Julian's voice was grim. "They won't exile us outright, but I suspect he's instructing Alexander to exclude us from the family's future. Direct confrontation won't work. We need to be smarter."

"No!" Eleanor's fist clenched, her nails biting into her palm. "I am William Hayes' daughter, and you are his grandson. Why shouldn't we inherit everything? You deserve Whitmore Holdings more than Alexander ever will!"

"Mother," Julian cut in, his tone sharp with impatience. "Yelling won't help. The other branches of the family are irrelevant now. I've already secured an alliance with someone far more powerful."

His next words sent a slow, calculating smile spreading across Eleanor's face.

The game wasn't over yet.