Chapter 48
48:
Morse dropped his voice, speaking in a hushed whisper into the phone, “I’ve figured out a trick to get Dylan to cook.”
Ralphy shot to his feet, his emotions flaring again. “Really? What trick? Tell me right now!”
“Oh? Didn’t you say you would get back at me for not messaging you about Dylan’s cooking just a minute ago?” Morse’s lips curled in a sly, triumphant grin.
Immediately, Ralphy’s whole demeanor shifted—he flashed a wide, obsequious smile. “I was just kidding! I swear, I didn’t mean any of that…”
Morse arched an eyebrow and flashed a teasing smile. “So what does that make me, then?”
Ralphy’s eyes darted before he plastered on an eager grin. “You’re my boss. Whatever you say goes, all right? I’ll do anything—just tell me the trick!”
To Ralphy, losing a touch of pride was a small sacrifice for the meal made by Dylan with his own hands. Learning what it took to get Dylan to cook was priceless.
“Boss, please, what’s the secret?” Ralphy pleaded, grinning shamelessly.
Morse burst out laughing at Ralphy’s pathetic display. “Are you really willing to do anything I ask just for a shot at Dylan’s cooking?”
“Absolutely! Name it, I’ll do it! Now quit stalling and tell me already!” Ralphy bounced on his heels, nearly bursting with anticipation.
Morse leaned in, smirking. “Well, since you’re so eager… Let’s talk about your family’s assets for a second…”
Before he could finish, Ralphy jumped in with an eager shout. “Boss! Everything I have is yours—take it all!”
But Ralphy barely got the words out before a cane came crashing down across his back.
“Ah! Ow—hey!” A sharp yelp escaped Ralphy as pain shot up his back. He whipped around, face blazing with anger. “Who the hell just hit me? Are you looking to die?”
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But as soon as Ralphy caught sight of the culprit, his bravado collapsed.
The words tangled in his throat. His voice went small and uncertain. “Grandpa…” He summoned up a nervous grin, trying to play it cool. “Uh, what brings you here all of a sudden?”
Samuel Graham, Ralphy’s grandfather, scowled, digging his cane into the floor. “If I hadn’t shown up, you’d have handed over the entire family to someone else!”
Ralphy let out a weak, awkward chuckle, desperate to defuse the situation. “Come on, I was just kidding…”
Samuel’s scowl only deepened. He raised his cane again, threatening another whack.
Panicking, Ralphy blurted out, “Dylan’s cooked today!”
The words stopped Samuel mid-swing. “What the hell did you just say? Dylan’s cooked today?” he echoed, his irritation momentarily forgotten.
Ralphy bobbed his head up and down, scrambling to keep the peace. “Yeah! I—”
Samuel didn’t let Ralphy finish. In a flash, he snatched Ralphy’s phone and shoved Ralphy out of the way. “Out of my way!”
Ralphy stumbled back, barely catching himself as Samuel claimed his phone.
Samuel’s tone flipped to warmth as he addressed the screen. “Morse, have you guys finished washing the dishes over there?”
Momentarily startled, Morse responded, “Mr. Graham, all the dishes are washed and put away.”
Samuel’s expression shifted, smoothing into an ingratiating smile. “Morse, you know I’ve always treated you well, haven’t I?”
“Of course, Mr. Graham. You’ve always been very generous,” Morse replied, his fingers pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses. He could already tell where this conversation was headed.
Right on cue, Samuel leaned in closer to the screen.
“About that trick you mentioned earlier… Would you mind sharing it with me?” His smile stretched even wider, thick with expectation.
By this time, Ralphy had recovered from his shock and was hovering nearby, craning his neck to catch every word.
With a sly grin, Morse quietly toggled his phone camera from the front to the rear lens, panning around the room before letting the frame settle on the living room.
In the shot, two people sat comfortably, sipping coffee. Dylan lounged in an armchair, his features locked in a cold, unreadable mask. Beside him sat a young woman, poised and composed, her face entirely unfamiliar to Samuel.
Samuel’s eyes narrowed with intrigue. “Who’s that woman over there? She’s just sitting there having coffee with Dylan?”
For a moment, genuine surprise flickered across Samuel’s normally unflappable face. He leaned in, peering at the screen, silently sizing up the woman with growing interest. Someone who could sit so naturally across from Dylan—unfazed, perfectly at ease—had to be remarkable.
“I know!” Ralphy couldn’t contain himself. He shot his hand into the air, practically bouncing in his seat. “Grandpa, that’s Christina! I’ve told you about her—she’s the one who beat Dylan and won the prize of King’s treatment. She struck a deal with Dylan, and now, thanks to her, Chloe actually has a shot at being healed.”
Samuel’s keen eyes stayed locked on Christina, sizing her up with the practiced scrutiny of a man who missed nothing. He took note of the way she sat—poised, unafraid, utterly unfazed by Dylan’s presence. Clearly, she wasn’t someone ordinary.
A slow realization dawned on Samuel. Any woman who could best Dylan in a shooting competition wasn’t just impressive—she was exceptional.
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