Chapter 8 

“Mr. Huffman-” The spoiled rich kid, blood streaming down his face, begged for mercy. “Our families still have business together!” 

“Not anymore.” Patrick’s voice was cold as steel as he swept his gaze across the crowd. “Listen up–anyone who touches Melinda from now on is taking on the entire Huffman Corporation.” 

He nodded at the guy crumpled on the floor. “That’s what happens.” 

The room went dead silent. Patrick signaled, and his men dragged the battered troublemaker 

away. 

As he turned, Maisy instinctively stepped back. 

“Maisy!” His eyes were still sharp with anger. “Is this how you’re supposed to take care of Melinda?” 

She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. 

The chandelier’s bright light made her eyes sting. 

She watched him gather Melinda protectively in his arms, guiding her out. It brought back a memory–on their wedding day, someone had spilled red wine on her dress, and Patrick had lost his temper right then and there. 

Back then, he’d said, “No one gets to hurt my wife.” 

Now, it was, “No one gets to hurt my Melinda.” 

Everyone was right–feelings really could change in an instant. 

After the gala, the three of them rode back together. 

The silence in the car was shattered by a shrill ringtone. 

“What? Okay, I’m coming right now!” 

Melinda hung up, tears running down her face. “Patrick, can you take me to the hospital first? My grandma… she’s in critical condition…” 

Patrick didn’t hesitate. He jerked the wheel, spinning the car around. 

Tires screeched. Maisy’s forehead slammed into the window, but Patrick didn’t even look at her. All his focus was on Melinda, who was sobbing in the passenger seat. 

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping Melinda’s shaking fingers. “I’m here.” 

They rushed down the hospital hallway just as a doctor came out of the operating room. 

“Her liver’s failing,” the doctor explained. “A transplant might help, but honestly, she’s older, and finding a match won’t be easy. I can’t really recommend it.” 

1/2 

“We have to do it! She needs the surgery!” Melinda grabbed the doctor’s coat, her nails digging in. “I’ll pay whatever it takes!” 

Patrick already had his phone out. “I’ll get my people searching for a donor right away.” 

He stood tall and unyielding–just like years ago, when Maisy’s dad had that sudden heart attack. Patrick had pulled together the best specialists in the city without a second thought. 

Only now, he was doing it for someone else. 

His assistant called back quickly. 

Maisy stood off to the side, watching Patrick’s brow furrow. “Who is it?” 

There was a pause. Then the assistant’s voice came through, clear and a little shaky: “It’s… Mrs. Huffman. She’s a perfect match.” 

Melinda turned to Maisy, tears still streaking her cheeks, and grabbed her hand. “Mrs. Huffman, please, I’m begging you…” 

Her fingers were cold, clammy with sweat. 

Maisy instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but Patrick caught it and held on. 

“Maisy, just a partial transplant,” he said gently, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’ll be okay. I promise.” 

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