A Fake Heiress’s Guide to Love and Power novel Chapter 376

Chapter 376

Chapter 376

The clinic was quiet and discreet-far better than a crowded hospital. Besides, after Xander gave him an injection, Tristan always bounced back as if nothing had happened.

“I’m dropping something off for my brother on the way. Let’s go together,” Liam said easily. As soon as the clinic was mentioned, he clearly knew exactly where Tristan was headed.

Tristan saw right through his excuse. How could someone who’d just come home with groceries suddenly have something urgent to drop off? Still, it was convenient to have a ride; better Liam take him than having to

call a cab.

By the time all was said and done, night had already fallen.

Tristan felt much better, a bit of color returning to his cheeks.

Liam didn’t say much. He walked Tristan back to his room and then headed upstairs. Barely half an hour later, there was a knock at Tristan’s door.

“What’s up?” Tristan glanced down to see Liam holding a food container.

“Made some extra soup. Didn’t have anyone else to give it to, so here.” Without another word, Liam shoved the container into Tristan’s arms and

left, face set in a stubborn frown.

Tristan couldn’t help but laugh, but he didn’t turn down the offer. Free food was still food.

He’d struggled with this for years. Back when he lived in the projects, there were days he went hungry more often than not. Even after he made it big, the wild hours of filming and the pressure to look good on camera meant skipping meals was a regular occurrence. His stomach had long since paid the price.

Mr. Dawson had warned him more than once: if he kept this up, not even a miracle worker could save him.

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But what could he do? He was alone in the world. If he died, so be it-at least it wouldn’t be in some dark alley. That was something to be grateful for.

But over the next few days, the doorbell rang, right on schedule. Every time, Liam stood at his door, food container in hand, reciting the same line as always.

On the third morning, Tristan, hair a tangled mess, cracked open the door, bleary-eyed.

“The code’s 3605. Stop ringing the bell. Just register your fingerprint later. And for God’s sake, Liam-eight in the morning? What sane person gets up that early for breakfast? I finally have a month off!”

Tristan was at his wit’s end, but he couldn’t really get mad at the guy bringing him food. It wasn’t breakfast he objected to-it was the idea of eating three meals a day.

“Can we make a deal? Two meals a day, skip breakfast. Please?”

“Mr. Dawson said you need regular meals this month and weekly check-ins at the clinic. If Lessie hadn’t begged me to keep an eye on you—make sure you don’t drop dead in your apartment—I wouldn’t be dragging myself out of bed at eight to cook.”

Liam set the food on the table, grabbed yesterday’s empty container, and shot him a look that brooked no argument.

Tristan had no comeback. He quietly closed the chain on the door behind

him.

Maybe it was this strange arrangement that brought them closer. Eventually, they got used to coming and going from each other’s apartments, all under the pretense of making sure the other didn’t die alone.

Maybe it was fate, but their habits were surprisingly alike. They had different personalities, but somehow, they balanced each other out. Before long, they were the kind of friends who stayed up talking into the night.

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Most days, if one had a gig or a meeting, they kept to themselves. But when neither had plans, they’d watch a movie together, run lines, or jam

out a new song.

Somehow, two loners had found a companion.

They rarely spoke more than a handful of words to each other in public, but in private, their friendship was easy and solid. Despite their fans believing the two couldn’t stand each other, everyone at A&C Entertainment knew better-their bond was one of the tightest in the

company.

Unfortunately, to the outside world, they acted like sworn enemies

whenever cameras were around. So even if someone tried to hint at their friendship, their fans would rush to defend their own favorite, terrified of fueling any rumors.