Chapter 68 Bringing Him to Heel?
“I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t persuade either doctor to return.”
Harrington sat on the sofa, phone pressed to his ear, his expression dark.
“What happened?”
“Carter hung up as soon as I explained, then switched off his phone. Dr. Whitmore said he couldn’t help the boy, so there was no reason to return.
He knows Carter through medicine and says he knows nothing about his personal life.
He also said he considers Carter his teacher and has no say in his decisions. ”
A hard glint flashed in Harrington’s eyes.
“Did you mention the money?”
“Yes. He said you certainly had money to throw around, offering a million and a half just like that. He sounded sarcastic. Then he said he was busy fishing and hung up.”
“Everyone knows someone,” Harrington said coldly. “Start with Whitmore. Find out who else Carter knows.”
He ended the call and sat rigidly on the sofa.
He had built a real estate empire. Powerful men took his calls, and people jumped when he gave an order.
Yet he couldn’t save his own grandson.
He understood perfectly well that his distrust and arrogance the night before had offended Ryan.
If Whitmore regarded the young man as a teacher, Ryan clearly possessed considerable ability. And talented men tended to have pride.
Enough pride to refuse even him.
A flicker of regret stirred in Harrington, only to be smothered by cold resolve.
Everyone had attachments. Everyone had weaknesses.
He refused to believe he couldn’t bring a man in his twenties to heel.
Brooks called back shortly afterward, sounding faintly surprised.
“Sir, Dr. Whitmore met Carter while treating George Mercer. The chairman of the Mercer group.”
George Mercer?
Harrington brightened.
He’d dealt with George plenty of times. They were friends, more or less.
There was his connection.
He immediately called George.
“George. There’s someone I wanted to ask you about.”
George chuckled. “Who could possibly be important enough for Lawrence Harrington to call me personally?”
“Ryan Carter.”
The amusement vanished from George’s voice.
“Why are you asking about him?”
“There’s something I need to discuss with him. I heard you know him quite well, so I thought I’d ask you first.”
George’s reply was solemn.
“Lawrence, if Mr. Carter has offended you, I’m asking you to let it go, for my sake. If you can’t, take it up with my family. We’ll answer for him.”
Harrington’s expression changed.
A man of George’s age and standing referred to Ryan so respectfully?
And without even asking what had happened, he had offered to shoulder the consequences himself.
He was protecting Ryan—even against Harrington.
Harrington kept his voice friendly while he reconsidered his approach.
“George, you’ve got the wrong idea. Carter and I have no quarrel. I asked because someone told me he treated you.”
“Oh, I see.”
The guarded edge disappeared from George’s voice.
“Yes, he treated me. More importantly, he saved my life. And not just mine—he saved my entire family. We owe him a tremendous debt.”
He paused.
“Actually, he mentioned last night that he’d come to see a patient. That wouldn’t have been you, would it?”
Harrington was stunned.
He had underestimated Ryan even more than he’d realized.
Now that he understood Ryan’s relationship with George, he immediately abandoned his earlier plan.
He gave a bitter chuckle.
“Not me. My grandson. And I’m afraid I handled things badly…”
He explained what had happened the night before, the changes in the boy’s condition that morning, and Ryan’s refusal to return.
“Harding and Whitmore are both renowned physicians,” he finished with a sigh. “Harding promised he could cure the boy, so I believed him. I never imagined it would turn out like this. George, you know Carter. Could you speak to him for me? I’d owe you a favor.”
“I can’t ask that of him, Lawrence. He’s already given you his answer. But I can tell you this: his medical skills are extraordinary. If he says it’s a curse parasite, I believe him. And if he spoke up, he must know how to treat it.”
Harrington wasn’t ready to give up.
“Then can you at least give me some advice?”
George considered the question.
“When I was dying, my son treated both doctors badly. Mr. Carter had to remind him that he was asking someone to save a life—and that he ought to act like it.”
George let that sink in.
“You created this problem, Lawrence. You’ll have to put it right yourself.”
Harrington understood.
“Thank you. I owe you one.”
After ending the call, he sat with a bitter expression.
Ask for help.
Ask.
George’s meaning was clear.
He would have to swallow his pride.
It wasn’t as though Harrington had never begged anyone for anything. But as his status rose, those occasions had grown increasingly rare.
These days, he dealt with senior state officials as an equal. Even when he needed something, it usually involved an exchange of favors or interests.
That wasn’t begging.
Now, however, he had no choice but to bow his head.
What else could he do?
This was his grandson.
He loved the boy. And even if that weren’t enough, how could he face his son and daughter-in-law if his pride cost their child his only chance?
They would hate him for the rest of their lives.
Damn it.
A moment ago, he’d been determined to bring Ryan to heel.
So much for that plan.