“Sir?” Tinder runs to them, “Are you still unwell?”
He orders the bodyguards to have the driver pull the car around.
“What’s wrong?” Andrea asks.
“Mr. Hamilton has been feeling poorly all afternoon. Dr. Walter said he should limit contact with you, but he didn’t listen and insisted on bringing you here,” Robert explains.
“Shut your fat mouth,” Lance snaps, though he’s clutching his chest and gasping for breath, “David was exaggerating.”
Robert presses his lips together and says nothing. Andrea is still processing Robert’s words.
“How come I didn’t notice his illness even though he insists on spending almost every single moment with me?” she thinks.
“What’s that look on your face?” Lance asks.
“What look?” Andrea responds.
“You look worried about me.”
Andrea looks at him, sp
