Chapter 11

"From now on, unless I give you permission, don't so much as touch me. Not even my hand," Samantha said flatly. "Deal," Alexander nodded. "Let's go," she replied crisply. Her flawless, stunning face didn't show a hint of satisfaction after sealing the deal. That calm, composed demeanor had Alexander once again realizing how different she was. He'd never been a fan of overly shrewd women—once a woman becomes too calculating, it always feels superficial. But somehow, Samantha's sharpness didn't turn him off—instead, he was intrigued. She knew how to guard herself, knew what she wanted, and always kept him guessing. That, to him, was unexpectedly refreshing. Alexander started the car. Samantha, in the passenger seat, was still fiddling with the seatbelt that wouldn't budge no matter how she tried to pull. "Let me," Alexander leaned over, reaching across her to help with the seatbelt. As he got closer, he caught that subtle scent on her again. His gaze swept past her slender shoulder, landing on her graceful neck and the delicate lines of her collarbones. Under the amber streetlights, she looked almost unreal—flawless skin, soft features, like something out of a painting. Suddenly, his mind dove into that memory of her soft, curvy figure, and he swallowed hard. "I got it, thanks," Samantha took the seatbelt from him and clicked it into place herself. Her ponytail flicked as she turned her head slightly. "The person who needs the Farsenian meal—is he important to you? Your brother, maybe?" Just as Alexander was about to sit back properly, her breath brushed against his skin—warm, sweet, leaving him gripping the steering wheel tighter, an unexpected heat stirring in him again. Damn it. He cursed silently. She really had a way of messing with his head without even trying. "Yeah. You're sharp," Alexander said, forcing himself to breathe normally before stepping on the gas. "Ah... ah..." As soon as they stepped into the mansion, Samantha heard a low, strained cry coming from inside—like an agitated animal trapped in a cage. Henrietta sat on the couch, clearly anxious. Doctors in white coats moved quickly through the first-floor hallway. The servants stood off to the side, silent, hands clasped, barely daring to breathe. "Ah..." The hoarse cry rang out again. Henrietta sprang to her feet, pacing angrily. "You useless bunch! What's wrong with Nicholas Perkins? He was perfectly fine this afternoon! What happened to him?!" "Mom," Alexander called out, walking in with Samantha beside him. At the sight of her, Henrietta's expression instantly turned sour. She pointed a trembling finger at Samantha, her voice thick with anger. "Alexander, why did you bring this vicious woman here? What is she doing here right now?! Get her out of here!" "Mom, seriously? Now's not the time for this," Samantha cut in before Alexander could say anything. Without giving Henrietta a chance to reply, she exchanged a faint smile and added with a dry tone, "So this is how the mother of the CEO of the Perkins Group handles things? Not much grace, huh?" Henrietta was so stunned she couldn't get a word out. Her face flushed red, then pale, and her finger pointed at Samantha was trembling uncontrollably. After a moment, she barked, teeth gritted, "Mr. Wadeson! Mr. Wadeson! Get this woman out of my house!" Mr. Wadeson stepped forward, giving Samantha a polite but firm gesture. "Madam Samantha, please." "I invited her," Alexander interrupted coldly, and just like that, Mr. Wadeson froze, not daring to say another word. "You invited her? Alexander, do you even know what you're doing?! You're letting her put your brother's life in danger!" Henrietta snapped. Her round face twisted with rage, her dominance clear in every word.After all, this was a woman who had stood by her husband for decades and helped build half the Perkins empire—Henrietta was definitely not someone easy to handle. She'd always been the one calling the shots around Caitlin. Who'd have thought the daughter-in-law, long quiet and obedient, would suddenly turn around and mock her not once, but twice, even poking at the biggest family taboo no one dared to mention? Henrietta's fury toward Caitlin hadn't died down even now. But Samantha, surprisingly, wasn't angry at all. She gave a calm, almost casual smile. "Kicking me out isn't hard. But getting me to come back? Not so easy. Mom, think it through—don't let your temper mess with Nicholas's condition." "You think I don't know what you are? I spent fifty million to get you from the Jordan family. In this house, if I say leave—you leave!" Henrietta's voice was sharp, furious at the arrogance in Caitlin's tone. Samantha raised an eyebrow with a look that said, "Whatever." Standing to the side, Alexander suddenly said coldly, "That Farsenian dish Nicholas had today? She made it." Henrietta froze. It took her a while to come up with a response. "Caitlin, how heartless can you be? Are you trying to kill your uncle for the family inheritance? Poisoning Sterling? Is this some scheme from the Jordan Group?" "Alexander said it's been five years since Nicholas spoke. He's been totally shut off—like a living corpse. But after eating what I made, he made a sound. Ever think that maybe he's trying to connect again?" Samantha rolled her eyes, scoffing, "So yeah, you can be mad, but don't lose your head. This could be a real chance." Henrietta stared at her son, dumbfounded. Alexander didn't miss a beat. "What Caitlin said, I agree. Mom, take a break—I'll have her start cooking." "Where's the kitchen?" Samantha shot him a look and asked without much emotion. "I'll show you," said Alexander. The two of them acted in sync, completely brushing past Henrietta, who was still frozen on the couch, and headed to the kitchen together. Considering the limited time and what Alexander had told her, Samantha decided to make a steak. As the sauce she had specially prepared sizzled over the hot steak, the kitchen filled with a mouthwatering aroma. She carefully carried the plate, weaving through the busy doctors and nurses, and stepped into a dimly lit room. The delicious smell stopped everyone in their tracks. She finally saw him—a tall, gaunt man curled up in a corner, staring blankly ahead. That was Nicholas Perkins? He looked completely hollowed out. What the hell had he been through? With a mix of pity and concern, Samantha walked toward him. He looked quite a bit like Alexander, though the features on his face were softer, nowhere near the sharp edges of Alexander's. But Nicholas just sat there lifelessly, eyes dull. If not for the hoarse, low growls coming from his lips, one might easily think he was just a statue. Samantha slowly crouched down, placing the fragrant plate of food in front of him with the gentlest of gazes. She reached out, gently brushing his hair like comforting a child, and smiled softly. Her voice was soothing, calm. "Wanna eat something?" Maybe it was the smell of food, or maybe something in her gentle voice got to him—Nicholas stopped making noise, his head turned stiffly, and his vacant eyes locked onto the steak she held. Alexander, standing behind Samantha, stared in surprise. Right now, Caitlin, usually so guarded, suddenly unfolded into someone unbelievably gentle. It was like watching a prickly hedgehog slowly roll over and reveal a soft, vulnerable underbelly. That damn tenderness. Alexander's brow twitched slightly, something stirring inside him that didn't feel so great.