Chapter 132

Angela Pov

I arrived at Sean's hotel a few minutes early, settling into one of the plush chairs in the lobby's waiting area. My phone showed 2:57 PM-three minutes before our agreed time. I hadn't bothered with luggage; this was a day trip at most. I'd be back in New York by tomorrow afternoon.

The twins were with Olivia. Despite our recent tension over Sean, she'd agreed immediately when I called asking for help.

"Of course I'll watch them," she'd said, her voice softening when I mentioned visiting Elizabeth's grave. "Take whatever time you need."

Two minutes passed. Then five. At 3:08, I texted Thomas: "Are you coming down soon?"

Three minutes later, my phone lit up with his response: "Ms. Wilson, we might need a little more time."

My mind immediately jumped to the worst scenarios. Was Sean having another episode? Had his condition worsened? Setting my jaw, I stood and headed for the elevators.

When I reached the door of Sean's suite, I pressed the bell and waited. The silence stretched before Thomas finally opened the door, his surprised expression telling me everything I needed to know.

"Ms. Wilson! Why did you come up?" he stammered, blocking the entrance.

I fixed him with a look that brooked no argument. Thomas's eyes darted nervously as he insisted nothing was wrong, but years of dealing with Sean's staff had taught me to recognize evasion. Without waiting for further explanation, I stepped past him into the suite.

"Ms. Wilson, please wait!" Thomas called after me, his footsteps hurrying behind me as I strode toward the master bedroom.

Worry tightened my chest. Had Sean collapsed again? Was he coughing up blood? I quickened my pace, reaching for the bedroom door.

As I pushed it open, my breath caught. Sean stood by the bed, shirtless, his fingers working at the buttons of a fresh dress shirt. The lean muscles of his torso-that familiar expanse of tanned skin-momentarily stopped me in my tracks.

He looked up, green eyes narrowing when they met mine.

I quickly averted my gaze, heat rising to my cheeks despite my best efforts. "You're... you're okay?"

A sardonic smile curved his lips. "What, didn't get enough of a view at the riding club? Need a closer look?"

"Don't flatter yourself," I snapped, though my face betrayed me with unwanted warmth. "You were late. I thought something might have happened."

Sean continued buttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. "We're going to Elizabeth's grave, aren't we? Are you planning to stand there watching me dress, or shall we get going?"

"If you're not feeling well enough to travel, we can postpone," I offered, noting the slight pallor beneath his tan. "I can wait a day or two."

"That won't be necessary," he replied flatly.

Downstairs, Thomas led us to a waiting black Bentley.

"Ms. Wilson, Mr. Shaw has arranged for his private jet to take you to Vermont," Thomas explained as the driver loaded Sean's overnight bag into the trunk.

I stopped short. "Private jet? I thought we'd be taking a commercial flight."

"There are no direct flights to Elizabeth's hometown," Sean said coldly. "Unless you plan to waste an entire day on layovers."

"Whatever you say," I replied, sliding into the car's plush leather backseat. This new development concerned me. A private jet meant hours alone with Sean in a confined space-precisely the situation I'd hoped to avoid.

At Teterboro Airport, my phone rang. Christopher's name flashed on the screen.

"You're going to Vermont?" His voice was strained with barely contained tension.

"Yes," I confirmed. "To Elizabeth's hometown. I'll be back tomorrow."

"With him?" The emphasis on the last word was unmistakable.

"Yes."

A pause. "Angela, may I ask why?"

"I have something important to take care of there."

Christopher's voice softened slightly. "Alright. Be careful. I'll pick you up when you return."

"That's not necessary," I said quickly. "I'll just go straight to the office when I get back."

"Why do you always refuse my help?" The hurt in his voice was palpable. "Won't you even give me a chance anymore?"

"It's not that, I just-"

"I'll pick you up," he interrupted with uncharacteristic firmness. "Let me know when you land."

The call ended abruptly-the first time Christopher had ever hung up on me. I stared at my phone, momentarily stunned by this departure from his usually impeccable manners.

I glanced up to find Sean watching me, his expression darkening. His jaw tightened visibly before he turned away, striding toward the waiting aircraft.

The interior of Sean's Gulfstream G650 took my breath away despite myself. Gleaming mahogany, buttery leather, and polished chrome created an atmosphere of understated luxury. Sean quickly gave Thomas a few instructions before settling into a seat by the window, pointedly looking away from me.

"You seem torn," he commented as I took a seat across from him. "Is Blake upset you didn't invite him along?"

I bit back my initial response. "Elizabeth was important to me too. This has nothing to do with Christopher."

Sean's laugh was short and bitter. "Of course. That's why you need me to take you to her grave, not him."

I felt my face flush but remained silent. Any response would only give him ammunition.

Twenty minutes into the flight, Thomas approached Sean with a small pill case. "Mr. Shaw, it's time for your medication."

"I know," Sean replied tersely.

"The doctor emphasized you must take it every six hours without fail," Thomas persisted.

"I said I know!" Sean snapped, his mood clearly deteriorating.

I watched as Thomas retreated, his shoulders slumped in defeat. A few minutes later, he quietly approached my seat.

"Ms. Wilson," he whispered, "could you please help? Mr. Shaw keeps refusing his medication, and his condition will only worsen."

"Why me?" I questioned. "He won't listen to me."

Thomas looked at me earnestly. "You're the only one who can influence him. Since you left... he hasn't listened to anyone."

With a reluctant sigh, I stood and moved to Sean's side.

"Can't you just take your medication as prescribed?" I demanded. "Or do you need to be coughing up blood again to be satisfied?"

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Concerned about my wellbeing?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I retorted. "I simply don't want you collapsing mid-flight and delaying my plans."

His eyes locked with mine, the familiar green depths stirring unwanted memories. "You never liked taking medication either, remember? Do you recall how I used to convince you?"

I glared at him in warning. "Sean Shaw, don't you dare."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Don't remember? I used to place the pill on my tongue and kiss you. Maybe I should remind you... or perhaps you'd like to return the favor?"