Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 36

The second half of their conversation was much more relaxed, and by the time Willow left the hospital, it was nearly noon.

She'd politely refused to stay for lunch—no sense risking a run-in with Beasley.

Sure enough, Beasley showed up right around lunchtime, barely missing her.

For the time being, Dorothy needed to stick to a light diet, but she also had to keep her strength up, so every meal was specially prepared by the Windsor family's private nutritionist and delivered straight to their hospital room. Vincent's meals were included as well.

The moment Beasley walked in, the aroma of freshly prepared food greeted him.

He strolled over to the dining table, eyeing the spread of dishes—there was more than enough for two people.

"Have you had lunch yet?" Dorothy asked, noticing her son's gaze lingering on the food.

Beasley tore his eyes away and walked over to his mother, ladling a bowl of soup for her. "I just stopped by to check on you. I have lunch plans with York in a bit."

After leaving York in the lurch last night, he figured he owed him a meal to make up for it.

Vincent paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and looked at his son. "York? The youngest Sinclair boy? He's back in town? When did that happen?"

York was indeed the younger Sinclair, with an older brother above him.

Beasley, fielding his father's string of questions, answered calmly, picking out the important part. "Yeah, he's been back three or four days."

His gaze swept around the room and settled on the vase of carnations on the coffee table. "Has she already been by?"

If Willow had stopped in, why hadn't she stayed for lunch with his parents? Was she worried she'd run into him—afraid he'd bring up her embarrassing display in the hospital corridor last night?

Dorothy followed her son's gaze to the brilliant red carnations blooming in the vase.

Vincent sighed at his son's response. "York's got talent, but he's never settled down. Patriarch Sinclair is getting on in years, still holding the whole Sinclair Group together—must be exhausting."

Patriarch Sinclair had only one legitimate heir, and while that son had fathered two bright, capable boys, fate hadn't been kind. The older grandson had suffered a terrible accident as an adult, leaving him paralyzed and withdrawn, still unmarried to this day.

The younger grandson—York—had always been a free spirit, determined to chart his own course. At twenty-seven, he still refused to accept his family's plans and spent his days chasing adventure.

Compared to that, Jameson had it easy. His two sons each had their strengths, and as for his grandson Beasley, there was nothing more to say. Beasley already had the reins of Windsor & Co. in his hands, and in just a couple of years, he'd turned it into the nation's top business empire—a position no one could threaten.

"Beasley, when you see York, try talking some sense into him for Patriarch Sinclair, will you?" Vincent said after a moment's thought.

"Alright," Beasley replied evenly.

Talk sense into York? That was a tall order. But at the very least, he'd help York get what he wanted—that's what friends were for, after all.