RICHARD'S POVI then stared up at the bodyguard, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Really? A full-grown man claiming a spot at a public restaurant? That's hilarious."The bodyguard's face hardened. "Mr. Quinn has a routine social interaction with his fans here. He has a particular seat." He pointed at the stickers plastered all over the table. "See? It’s reserved."Before I could respond, he added, "If you don’t stand up, we will throw you out."I glanced around, noticing everyone in the restaurant was staring at us. Not wanting to cause more trouble, I sighed. "Fine, whatever. Let’s just move, Amelia."But before we could stand, Mr Quinn himself cleared his throat. "Only you, leave. The lady can stay. I’d like a word with her."I laughed, shaking my head. "Not happening."I chuckled and shook my head again, "Not possible, my friend. Amelia wouldn't be caught dead with you."“Listen up, boy. You don’t speak for her. And mind how you run your mouth in here. It's obvious you don't know
RICHARD'S POV I was in the middle of a workout when my phone buzzed. It was a message from my father, summoning me to the house. I had no idea what he wanted, but knowing him, it couldn't be anything good. I grabbed my stuff and headed over, my mind racing with possibilities.I pulled up to my father’s house, already dreading whatever nonsense he had in store for me this time. Jonathan and William were just coming back from wherever rich idiots go to kill time. In fact when I arrived, they were just getting out of their car, smirking like they'd won the lottery, and I knew that look. It never meant anything good for me.“Well, if it isn’t the big shot,” Jonathan sneered, waving a newspaper at me.“Looks like someone’s been playing cowboy,” William added, his tone dripping with sarcasm.“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely confused.“You really haven’t seen it?” Jonathan laughed. “You’re all over the news, big brother. Challenging the reigning horse-riding champio
RICHARD’S POV I was in serious panic, my heart pounding like a freight train. My mother was sprawled on the floor, her face ashen. I could barely breathe as I scrambled for my phone, hands shaking. I dialed 911 with a sense of frantic urgency. “Please, hurry!” I gasped into the phone, trying to stay calm. “My mother—she’s not breathing properly. I think she’s having a heart attack.” The operator’s voice was calm and steady, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. “Help is on the way. Can you tell me her condition? Is she conscious?” I knelt beside her, tears stinging my eyes. “No, she’s unconscious. I don’t know how long it’s been like this. Please, just hurry.” “Stay with her,” the operator instructed. “Perform CPR if you know how.” I wasn’t trained in CPR, but I followed the operator’s instructions as best I could, my hands trembling as I pressed down on her chest. It felt like hours before the sirens wailed outside. When the paramedics burst in, I practically threw my
RICHARD’S POV Fury bubbled inside me. I couldn't shake off the horseman's hateful words. I turned back, my fists clenched. I wasn't about to let him walk away scot-free. I charged at him, my fist connecting with his face in a satisfying crack. The man's head snapped back, and for a moment, I felt a surge of primal satisfaction. But before I could land another punch, I felt a pair of strong arms grab me from behind, I struggled, my rage making me fight harder, but his bodyguards weren't holding back. They pummeled me with hard punches. I tried to block and throw a few of my own, but it felt like I was fighting a losing battle. "Get off me!" I yelled, spitting out blood and sweat. Some people started to gather, their phones out, and recording the spectacle. I could hear murmurs and gasps from the crowd, and the horse rider's smug laugh cut through the chaos. "Let him go," he ordered his goons. "I want him to remember this." They released me, and I stumbled backward, my
RICHARD’S POV The hospital premises were a mess of flashing cameras and shouting reporters as soon as I walked through the entrance. I barely got two steps in before they swarmed me like a pack of hungry wolves. “Mr. Thorne, did you really attack the horse rider?” one reporter yelled, shoving a microphone in my face. Another one cut in, “Are you here because you’re mentally unstable?” I clenched my jaw. “What’s it to you?” I snapped. “My mother is undergoing a heart transplant. That’s why I’m here.”A guy with a camera shoved it even closer. “So you’re admitting you attacked the horse rider? Did he really wish for your mother’s death?”I felt my blood pressure rise. “Yeah, he did. And if he had the balls to say that to my face again, I’d gladly punch him again.”They started shouting questions over each other, making it impossible to hear myself think. “Will you still be participating in the race?” One voice cut through the chaos. “Hell yes, I’ll be there,” I said, trying to soun
RICHARD’S POVAs I sat in the waiting room, I couldn’t help but notice Amelia’s intense scowl directed at Cathy. It was like she’d just spotted an old rival. Before I could say anything, Amelia marched over to me with a determined stride.Cathy, catching the change in atmosphere, frowned and glanced at me. “Do you know her?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.Amelia wasted no time. “Oh, Richard not only knows her, but he plans to marry her,” she said with a dramatic flourish.Cathy’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it, looking between us with a mix of surprise and confusion. I cleared my throat, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. “Uh, Cathy, is everything alright?”Cathy gave me a polite but puzzled wink. “Yes, everything’s fine,” She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Just... surprised.”I nodded, trying to keep things civil. “Yeah, and Amelia and I are still figuring out the whole marriage thing. Nothing’s set in stone yet,” I added, shooting Amelia
RICHARD’S POV The next day, I woke up to the soft beep of the heart monitor. Mom’s eyes were open. She looked at me, a question in her eyes. I squeezed her hand. “You’re awake, Mom,” I whispered. Her eyes filled with tears.The room was a mess. Flowers, balloons, and get-well gifts were scattered around. I’d spent the last few hours here, hoping, praying. This was a miracle.My mother, still groggy but awake, lay in her hospital bed. I sat beside her, holding her hand gently. “Hey, its good to have you back, Mom,” I said softly. Do you need anything? How are you feeling?”She opened her eyes slowly, a weak but sincere smile on her face. “Richard... I can’t thank you enough for this. I thought—”“Don’t,” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d give you a thousand chances if I could. Just focus on getting better.”Her eyes glistened with tears. “You always know how to make me feel better.”Before I could respond, the door swung open. My dad walked in with a bouquet of flow
Richard's POVI wheeled Mom out of the hospital, the wheels of the chair squeaking on the polished floor. We had spent more than one week in the hospital and we were finally discharged. Dad was with my brothers, and none of them looked thrilled to be there. Typical. They had mostly visited twice and they looked forced. I didn’t care about them. My major priority was ensuring that my mother recovered quite fast. Once we got to the car, my father helped me lift my mother to the car. "Need a hand, Dad?" I asked as he rolled her up to the car."Yeah, thanks, Richard," Dad said, heaving Mom out of the chair and into the backseat. "You boys behave, alright?""Sure, Dad," I muttered, already feeling the tension rising. As soon as Dad was busy with Mom, my brothers closed in."You know you're next in that wheelchair, right?" Johnson sneered. “I wonder how you’ll look.” I looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"Williams laughed. "The horse race tomorrow, genius. You're gonna