Page 104 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
But my focus keeps splintering.
My thoughts drift back to the hospital.
To Lucy’s pale face. To the weight of Richard Hammond’s secrets.
To the choice I made.
Did I make the right decision?
I don’t know.
By evening, I’ve dealt with the most pressing fires. The Petrov deal is stabilized, for now. A potential acquisition target needs more analysis. Nothing that can’t wait until morning.
I tell Tatiana I’m done for the day.
“Returning to the hospital, Mr. Blackwell?” she asks, already anticipating.
“Yes.”
“Understood. Elijah is standing by.”
Back at Mount Sinai, the evening shift is on. The waiting room is quieter. Maya gives me a subtle nod as I approachwith Elijah.
Lucy is curled up on one of the uncomfortable sofas, laptop open but screen dark, staring into space. She looks exhausted but resolute.
She looks up as I enter, a flicker of surprise followed by a soft warmth in her eyes that does stupid things to my insides.
“You’re back,” she says, straightening.
“Finished for the day.” I sit beside her, closer this time. The professional distance feels absurd now. “Any change?”
“No, still stable. Sleeping mostly. Which is good, I guess.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I spoke to Liam O’Connell, our head architect. And Carol. Just… keeping the operational wheels turning. Trying to project calm when internally I’m screaming.”
“You’re handling it,” I say. And she is. Impressively so.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. The weight of the day settles around us. The fear. The revelations.
“So,” I say finally, breaking the quietude. The practicalities can’t be ignored forever. “Who leads Hammond & Co. now? With Richard incapacitated indefinitely?”
She bites her lip, looking away. “I… I don’t know. The board will have to appoint an interim. Morgan will push for himself, or someone who will liquidate.”
“There’s an obvious choice,” I state, looking directly at her.
She meets my gaze, apprehension clear in her eyes. “Who?”
“You, Lucy.”
She flinches, shaking her head immediately. “No. I can’t.”
“Why not?” I press. “You know the business better than anyone. You have the vision. You have the employees’ loyalty. You’ve practically been running the damn place behind the scenes for months anyway. You’re the only logical choice, even temporarily.”
“No,” she repeats, her voice tight. “I’m not… I’m not ready. I don’t have the experience. I’m not Dad.”
“Thank fuck for that, given recent revelations,” I mutter darkly. “That’s not a valid reason.”
“It’s not just that!” Her voice rises slightly, laced with an emotion I haven’t heard from her before. Raw insecurity. Fear. “Christopher, I… I’m terrified I’ll fail. That I’ll make the wrong call, destroy everything. The weight of the legacy, the responsibility… it’s crushing. Everyone expects me to step up because I’m a Hammond, but I don’t feel… worthy. I feel like a fraud, waiting to be exposed.” Her cheeks flush that familiar pink, but this time it’s born of deep vulnerability, not just awkwardness.
She finally admitted it.
