The last day’s of Mr Andrew

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

The car ride to Cross Holdings was quieter than usual. Andrew sat in the back, his posture rigid, while Nancy sat beside him, calm but alert. Victoria occupied the seat across from them, arms crossed and expression inscrutable.

“You really think Reeves won’t push too hard?” Victoria asked, breaking the silence after what felt like an eternity.

Andrew didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed out the window as the city blurred past, an endless stream of lights, buildings, and people moving forward, unaware of his existence.

Nancy leaned closer, her voice steady. “He will. That’s exactly why we’re here. Together.”

Andrew flicked a glance at her, his tone dry. “…Together.”

“You said it yourself,” she replied. “You need me.”

He chose not to respond.

Victoria let out a soft sigh, the tension in the car palpable. “I’m here to ensure this doesn’t get out of hand,” she said with a hint of frustration.

Andrew clenched his jaw. “And yet, you’re the one who always does.”

Victoria held her ground, not flinching as she caught his eye. They finally pulled up to the towering building of Cross Holdings, its glass façade reflecting the dim morning light, a stark reminder of their high-stakes game.

The elevator ride was tense. Nancy caught sight of Andrew’s hand twitching as he adjusted his cufflinks, small, subtle, but revealing.

“You need to breathe,” she said softly.

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice clipped.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m aware,” he muttered.

When they entered the boardroom, the atmosphere shifted. Executives were already seated, polished suits, rehearsed smiles, their eyes scanning Andrew as he entered.

Daniel Reeves leaned back in his chair, embodying calm authority, but the flicker of something deeper in his eyes, a spark of calculation, betrayed his true intentions.

“Mr. Cross,” Daniel greeted smoothly, rising slightly in acknowledgment. “Glad you could join us.”

Andrew took his seat at the head of the table without responding. Nancy stood slightly behind him, providing a reassuring, silent strength. Victoria remained near the doorway, vigilant and watchful.

Daniel’s smile widened just a fraction. “We were just discussing your… upcoming absence,” he said, a hint of mockery lacing his words.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not absent.”

Daniel leaned forward, feigning concern. “We understand your health is… delicate. That’s why some of us are considering… a transition plan.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Andrew’s hand clenched around his pen, the grip tightening until his knuckles bleached white. “…Transition plan?”

Daniel nodded, smooth as silk. “Yes. A step back from operations while you focus on recovery.”

Nancy’s hand brushed against Andrew’s arm, a quiet anchor in the storm. He didn’t react. Victoria’s eyes met his, a challenge palpable in the silent exchange.

“And who decided this?” Andrew asked sharply, his voice low but cutting through the murmurs.

Daniel maintained his calm demeanor, smiling faintly. “The board. Concerned shareholders. Some advisors. Naturally, we all want what’s best for the company.”

Andrew leaned forward, his tone icy. “Do I have a say in what’s best?”

Silence fell like a heavy curtain, the tension palpable.

“Yes,” Daniel conceded, though his smile was still easy. “But your condition… complicates things.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened. “I’m still in charge. Anyone who forgets that will be reminded.”

A sudden shift swept through the room; some executives leaned back, wary, while others kept their expressions neutral, appraising the potential fallout.

Daniel, however, showed no signs of retreat. “…Very well,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his gaze. “Then we’ll proceed with today’s agenda.”

Andrew nodded once, coldly. “Good. Let’s do that.”

The meeting dragged on. Numbers. Forecasts. Shareholder concerns. Projections. Andrew responded with precision, his voice measured and firm.

Each time Reeves attempted to edge in, Nancy gently nudged him with a whispered word or a fleeting glance, an unspoken reminder to stay grounded.

Throughout it all, Victoria remained near the door, quietly observing, occasionally jotting notes on her tablet.

She didn’t intervene, but her presence alone provided Andrew with a sense of familial support, reminding him that even amidst chaos, he wasn’t truly alone.

As the meeting drew to a close, several executives appeared to shift their alliances, subtly, without overt gestures, but with a clear acknowledgment of Andrew’s focus and resilience, the quiet authority he maintained despite the ever-thickening tension in the room.

Daniel’s eyes lingered on Andrew as he gathered his papers, a mixture of admiration and calculation behind them.

Andrew sensed the silent battle, a game of chess played with his health as the pawn.

Once outside the boardroom, Nancy stepped close, her voice soft. “You handled that well.”

Andrew cast a sidelong glance at her. “Barely.”

“You mean perfectly,” she corrected, her confidence unwavering.

“...Barely,” he repeated, unwilling to admit vulnerability.

Victoria joined them in the corridor, a firm recognition in her eyes. “I’ll see you at the penthouse,” she said to Andrew, her tone leaving little room for argument. “Make sure you rest.”

He hesitated before replying, “...I will.”

When they returned to the penthouse, night had enveloped the city. Glittering lights danced like stars against the skyline, but the weight of the day pressed on him not just physically.

Nancy moved through the apartment with purpose, preparing a light dinner while Victoria lingered in the living room, quietly reviewing documents on her tablet.

Finally, Andrew sat down, exhaustion flooding him as he stared out at the cityscape. “...I can’t keep doing this,” he murmured, the confession escaping before he could second-guess himself.

Nancy came to his side, her hand brushing against his arm, grounding him further. “Yes, you can. Because you’re not alone.”

Andrew’s jaw tightened at the emotions that began to surface. “...I feel alone anyway.”

“You’re not,” she insisted gently, her strength unwavering . “Even when it feels like it.”

Victoria met his gaze, her expression serious but gentle. “We’re all here for you, Andrew. You just need to accept it.”

He didn’t respond immediately. But later, as Nancy guided him toward his bedroom, he allowed himself to let go, collapsing onto the bed, heavy with both fatigue and reluctant acceptance.

“Goodnight, Andrew,” she said quietly, turning off the bedside lamp.

“...Goodnight, Nancy,” he replied softly.

As sleep finally claimed him, Andrew realized something he hadn’t yet admitted: the battles weren’t confined to boardrooms or office politics. They raged within, a delicate balance of control, trust, and the slow, transformative act of letting someone in.