Joshua raised an eyebrow, a cold smile playing at his lips. "So you're here to meet Lorenzo Gatti."
"Not that it's any of your business," Natalie said icily. "But yes. Some of us actually aspire to success."
"Then let me save you some time." Joshua's voice was sharp. "Mr. Gatti won't cooperate with people who have no moral standards."
Natalie's eyes flashed with fury. "Moral standards? You dare talk to me about morals? Your mother is lying in a hospital bed, critically ill, and you're here spending her medical expenses at the most expensive restaurant in the city! You're disgusting!"
The words carried through the dining hall. Nearby diners turned to stare, their expressions shifting from curiosity to disgust as they looked at Joshua.
"Did you hear that?" a woman at the next table whispered loudly to her companion. "He's using his dying mother's medical money to eat here?"
"That's shameful," her companion agreed, shaking his head. "What kind of son does that?"
"Absolutely despicable," another diner murmured.
Natalie's lips curved into a satisfied smile as the whispers spread. She raised her voice, ensuring everyone could hear. "Since you clearly don't care whether your mother lives or dies, I've made a decision. I'm cutting off all medical payments for her treatment. Completely. Permanently."
She paused for effect, her eyes cold and triumphant. "That way, you can't keep stealing life-saving money to feed your pathetic vanity."
"How terrible," someone whispered.
"The poor woman," another voice added. "Imagine having a son like that."
Joshua's laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the judgmental murmurs. "Medical payments? When have you ever actually paid them, Natalie?"
Natalie's expression flickered with confusion. "What are you talking about? I've paid your mother's bills every single month for three years—"
"No, you haven't." Joshua's voice was ice. "Every month, I had to beg your assistant for the money. Every single month, I submitted applications, hospital bills, doctor's notes. And every single time, what did I get? The same excuse: 'The company's finances are tight. Request denied.'"
Mark's face went pale. A thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"That's ridiculous," Natalie said, but her tone had lost some of its certainty. "Mark would have told me if—"
"Would he?" Joshua's gaze fixed on Mark with laser precision. "Tell her, Mark. Tell her about all those applications I submitted. Tell her how you denied every single one."
"I—I did submit them," Mark stammered, his voice higher than normal. "Mrs. Cavesh approved the payments herself. If they didn't reach the hospital, that's not my fault—"
"You submitted them?" Joshua's laugh was dark. "Then where did the money go?"
The question hung in the air. Mark's face flushed red, then went white again. His hands clenched on the table.
Natalie's eyes narrowed as she looked between Joshua and Mark. "Mark?"
"He's lying!" Mark said quickly, desperately. "He's trying to create conflict between us! You know how manipulative he is!"
"Then show her the records," Joshua said quietly. "Show her the approved payments. The bank transfers. Prove me wrong."
Mark's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. The silence was damning.
Just as Natalie's expression began to shift from certainty to doubt, Mark's eyes suddenly lit up. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
"Wait! I remember now!" Mark's voice was triumphant. "I saw the news earlier today. There was a story about some mysterious tycoon who donated one hundred million dollars to Mercy General Hospital. He established a fund to help poor patients!"
He held up his phone, showing a news article. "That's why Joshua isn't afraid of you cutting off payments! He must have applied for assistance from this mysterious benefactor. That's how his mother's getting treatment now!"
Natalie's expression transformed from doubt back to cold contempt. She leaned back in her chair, her voice dripping with disdain. "So that's it. That's why you've been so fearless. You found another sugar daddy—some bleeding-heart philanthropist who doesn't know what kind of person you really are."
"Must be nice," Mark added, his confidence returning now that he'd deflected attention away from his embezzlement. "Living off other people's generosity. First Mrs. Cavesh, now some random billionaire. You're like a professional leech."
"I bet he manipulated that poor man," a nearby diner said loudly. "Probably told him some sob story."
"People like that have no shame," another agreed.
Natalie stood up from her chair, her voice carrying throughout the entire dining hall. "Let me make something very clear, Joshua. I will never extend a helping hand to someone as morally corrupt as you. Never."
She turned, addressing the room as if making a public declaration. "And I sincerely hope that whatever kind soul donated that money realizes what kind of person he's supporting. Joshua Hart is a liar, a manipulator, and a disgrace. He doesn't deserve anyone's charity."
Mark stood beside her, nodding vigorously. "Absolutely right, Mrs. Cavesh. The philanthropist should know the truth about who he's funding."
"The man has no principles," Natalie continued, her voice like ice. "No work ethic. No ambition. He's content to live off others while contributing nothing to society. And now he's found a new victim to exploit."
"Someone should tell that billionaire," a woman at a nearby table said. "He deserves to know his money is going to someone like this."
"What a waste of a hundred million dollars," her companion agreed. "Helping scum like him."
Joshua stood perfectly still, his face expressionless as the insults washed over him. Every word Natalie spoke, every judgment from the strangers around him—it all bounced off the armor he'd built over three years of humiliation.
Latest Chapter
Chapter 67
In truth, Mark didn't really know much about Joshua's visits to the hospital.He knew about the mother — Elizabeth Hart, ICU ward, chronic condition, the medical bills that had been the central leverage point of Joshua's entire existence in the Cavesh household for three years. That part was established fact, documented in the household accounts he had managed and manipulated for longer than he cared to calculate precisely.But the recent hospital activity — the visits, the movements, whatever Joshua's connection to Mercy General had become in the last two weeks — that was the part Mark had been filling in with inference rather than intelligence. He had said significant portion of his time has been spent in the vicinity of Mercy General with the smooth confidence of someone citing verified tracking data, and what he had actually been citing was a two-day-old observation from a source he no longer had.The source was Jennifer.Jennifer had been a nurse on the ICU floor — not Patricia W
Chapter 66
Mark told Natalie that Monica was working at Galaxy for a reason.He said it with the smooth, unhurried confidence of a man delivering the final piece of a puzzle he had assembled himself — which was, though only he knew this, precisely the problem. He had assembled it himself. From fragments. From the surface-level records that had survived his contact's access being revoked, from reasonable-sounding inferences he had dressed in the language of verified fact, from the particular skill he had developed over years of managing information flows — the skill of making incomplete pictures look complete.What he was telling Natalie was approximately fifteen percent verified and eighty-five percent constructed. The construction was good. It held together. It had the texture of research rather than invention.He knew this. He continued anyway."She didn't walk into Galaxy Tech on merit," Mark said, his voice carrying the flat certainty of someone reading from a confirmed source. "She was plac
Chapter 65
Seeing how Natalie was reacting to the news, Mark became bolder.He had been watching her carefully throughout the morning — reading her responses with the practiced sensitivity of a man who had spent years calibrating his approach to her moods and had developed, through that calibration, an instinct for exactly when she was most receptive to being pushed further. The confidence the report had restored to her was real and visible and it had loosened something in her posture, in the quality of her attention, in the particular way she was leaning toward the information rather than away from it.This was the moment.He reached into the second folder he had brought — the one he hadn't opened yet, the one he had been holding in reserve — and he set it on the desk in front of her with the deliberate, unhurried movement of someone producing a card they have been holding since the beginning of the game."There's something else about Monica Sterling," he said.Natalie looked at the folder. The
Chapter 64
Feeling confident, Natalie became angry.It was a particular kind of anger — not the hot, uncontrolled variety that had broken through on the corridor of Cavesh Industries when she'd heard Joshua's voice on Mark's phone, but the cold, focused kind that arrived after reassurance rather than before it. The kind that didn't destabilize a person but concentrated them. That took the diffuse anxiety of the past week and compressed it into something with a specific direction and a specific target.She stood from her desk and walked to the window.The city spread out below the fourteenth floor in its usual ordered arrangement — the morning traffic building on the main boulevard, the buildings catching the early light at angles that made them look briefly significant before the day rendered them ordinary again. She looked at it with the flat, assessing eyes of a woman who had spent her entire professional life treating the city as a landscape to be navigated rather than admired."He thinks he'
Chapter 63
Natalie felt reassured.It happened gradually as Mark walked her through the report — the tight, compressed anxiety that had been sitting in her chest since the night outside the Grand Meridian loosening degree by degree, the uncomfortable uncertainty that had been accumulating since The White Whale beginning to resolve itself back into the familiar, solid ground of knowing exactly what she was dealing with.Joshua Hart was dependent on a woman.Again.The pattern was so consistent it was almost comforting in its predictability — the man had spent three years attaching himself to Natalie's resources and name and had apparently, the moment those resources were withdrawn, located a replacement host with the instinctive efficiency of something that survived purely through proximity to stronger organisms. A well-resourced assistant with access to money that wasn't hers, providing a villa and a lawyer and the appearance of independence to a man who had demonstrated, throughout their entire
Chapter 62
Monica agreed without hesitation."I'll have three firms shortlisted by tonight," she said. Her voice carried the same professional steadiness it always carried, but underneath it was something that had been present since the hotel terrace conversation — a quality of investment that went beyond the contractual. She was not agreeing because it was her job to agree. She was agreeing because she understood what was at stake and had already decided, in the way Monica Sterling decided things, that the outcome mattered to her personally. "I'll prioritize firms with specific experience in matrimonial asset protection where infidelity evidence is the primary settlement instrument. I'll have their profiles and case histories on your desk by eight.""Good," Joshua said."The investigation into Mark Sullivan and Natalie Cavesh's relationship," Monica continued, her tone shifting slightly into the clipped, operational register she used for complex logistics. "I'll commission a private investigati
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