As the clock marched on, Stevie watched his stocks nosedive, his mood darkening with every passing second.
With no hint of Matthew backing down, Stevie had no option but to track down Fernando’s location and leave Fairwa.
At the hospital, fate had Stevie bump into Fernando just as he was exiting the cafe.
Fernando, with a laptop bag in hand, gave Stevie a glance but remained stoic, continuing on his path.
“Mr. Quinn,” Stevie called out, lowering his pride with a groveling smile.
Fernando seemed to notice him for the first time, his voice neutral.
“Mr. Craig, what brings you here so late?”
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Stevie said, his ignorance feigned, seeking to glean insight.
“Could you enlighten me on how I’ve crossed Prosperity Group? Why have they set their sights on my company?”
Fernando’s gaze was cool and dismissive.
“If you were unaware of your mistakes, why would you come to me?”
“Well…” Stevie faltered, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions.
Fernando looked away with disinterest.
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“It’s late. Unless it’s urgent, I’ll be on my way.”
“Just a moment,” Stevie said, reaching out and clasping Fernando’s arm.
Fernando’s brows knitted, and he withdrew his arm sharply, eyeing Stevie with measured calm.
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“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, might you arrange a meeting for Mr. Clark and me? I wish to speak with him face to face. Would that be possible?” Stevie asked, his stance subservient.
Fernando’s attitude was frigid.
“Mr. Clark has retired for the evening. We can attend to any issues tomorrow.”
With those final words, he departed.
Stevie was left simmering in silent fury, powerless to sway Fernando.
He lingered at the hospital entrance, hope dwindling with each minute Matthew failed to appear.
The late night brought a biting wind that whipped around the hospital, sending shivers through Stevie’s frame.
Yet, the urgency to protect his fortune outweighed any physical discomfort.