Chapter 17 What Good Did Your Money Do?
George’s rebuke carried more disappointment than anger.
“Medical skill was only part of the problem. Whitmore is an ordinary man. He isn’t a cultivator. He has no internal energy to counter the damage inside my body.”
Victor’s eyes widened.
“Ryan Carter is a cultivator.”
“At last.” George sighed. “The man who attacked me wanted me to suffer. He left us just enough time to understand what was happening. That’s the only reason there was a chance to save me.”
He let that sink in.
“What happens next time?”
Victor paled.
He wasn’t unintelligent. He could hardly have taken over the family’s businesses if he were. But he had missed the one detail that changed everything.
“If Ryan can treat an injury caused by internal energy, he must have it himself,” Victor said slowly. “At his age, that would make him exceptionally talented. Or he has a powerful teacher.”
The rest followed quickly.
“The man who attacked you will find out you survived. He won’t stop.”
George nodded.
“We owe Ryan our gratitude, but we also had an opportunity to make a friend. He might have been willing to help. Or perhaps his mentor could.”
His expression hardened.
“Instead, you went out of your way to insult him. Are you in such a hurry for me to die and leave you in complete control?”
Victor flushed.
“You know that isn’t what I want. I just—”
“You think money and influence make you better than everyone else. You think anything can be bought.” George’s voice sharpened. “When that man attacked me, what good did your money do?”
Victor had no answer.
“Keep thinking that way and it will cost you.”
Sweat gathered on his forehead.
“I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“Remember this. There are people we cannot afford to offend. Some have more money or political influence than we do. Others are cultivators.”
George watched his son carefully.
“An enemy in business might cost you a fortune. A cultivator could cost you your life. Some of them care nothing about wealth or status. They care whether they can kill you.”
He paused.
“And you only get one life.”
Victor finally understood the scale of his mistake.
They already had a dangerous enemy. Now he had antagonized a cultivator with extraordinary medical skills—a man who might have become an ally.
“I’ll apologize again tomorrow.”
“Not yet. He has a poor opinion of you, and another visit may only irritate him. Take seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars to Whitmore tomorrow. Then learn more about Ryan. His work, his circumstances. Find a way to help him without making a spectacle of it.”
George settled back against the seat.
“He stepped in for Whitmore’s sake, then refused your money. That should tell you what matters to him. Loyalty. Personal ties. You can’t buy someone like that.”
Victor listened closely.
“If you want his friendship, be sincere. Help where you can and let it develop naturally.”
“I understand.”
“And don’t keep a ledger in your head. Treat him as a friend, not an investment.”
“I will.”
George considered their more immediate problem.
“Call Grant at the security firm. Tell him I want the best fighter he has. He can name his price.”
Victor took out his phone.
“I’ll do it now.”
The next morning, Ryan stood outside the Bennetts’ villa, halfway up a wooded hillside.
“I’m here,” he said into his phone.
He looked over the grounds while he waited. The place had to be worth several million dollars.
Chloe came out in an off-the-shoulder dress fitted at the waist. A pendant rested on a platinum chain above her neckline. She looked elegant, feminine, and thoroughly annoyed.
“What took you so long?”
“You said eleven. I’m right on time.”
“Fine. Someone else is early.”
“Someone you don’t want to see?”
Instead of answering, she slipped her arm through his.
“Come on. Act natural.”
Ryan glanced down. Through their light summer clothes, he could feel the soft pressure of her breast against his elbow.
Chloe followed his gaze and blushed.
“Don’t get any ideas. This is for the people inside.”
“Let me guess. There’s a guy in there who won’t take a hint.”
“The son of one of Dad’s friends.” She pulled him toward the door. “Remember, you’re my boyfriend. Act like it.”
Her voice brightened the moment they entered.
“Dad! Ryan’s here.”
A young man sprang up from the couch.
His stare went straight to Chloe’s arm linked through Ryan’s—and to how closely she was holding him.
Jealousy flared in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you? Get your arm off her!”