Chapter 10 Still Drinking Coffee?

• "An investment?" Zayla's brow creased, skeptical of Carsen's claim. Her grandfather wouldn't have entrusted Steele Group to her care if Carsen possessed genuine business acumen.
• "Just wire the money. I need it urgently," Carsen pressed.
• Zayla countered, "I can provide the funds, but you must send me the investment project's details for me to review."
• What kind of father lets his daughter dictate terms like this? Carsen felt embarrassed, venting his frustration at Zayla over the phone, accusing her of being a financial burden and implying she shouldn't have been born, hurling insults and playing the victim.
• Familiar with this routine, Zayla remained composed. "Is there anything else you need? I'm quite busy. If you don't need anything else, I'll have to end the call."
• "Don't! Don't hang up. I'll send them to you!" Carsen pleaded, fearing he'd lose his chance if she disconnected.
• After the call ended, Zayla settled in front of her computer and soon received the files from Carsen. She promptly forwarded them to her assistant for printing and requested coffee.
• After the documents were printed, Zayla delved into them with laser focus. She paused briefly as a delightful, steaming cup of coffee was placed on her desk. She reached out and took a sip. Though the aroma of the superior Blue Mountain coffee was enticing, it was too bitter for her palate. Despite her preference for sweetness, she relied on the bitter brew to keep her alert.
• After a sip, Zayla set the coffee aside and resumed her examination of the files. Carsen's investment proposal revolved around real estate, brimming with intricate plans, certificates, and what seemed to be a competent team. Carsen called again before she could finish reviewing the documents, urging her for the funds.
• Just then, her assistant knocked on the door, and Zayla, multitasking, answered the phone while motioning for her assistant to enter.
• "Ms. Steele, Dr. Miller is downstairs," the assistant informed her.
• Stellan? Zayla was taken aback and too engrossed to dwell on Carsen. She quickly answered her father, "Alright," before ending the call. "please ask Stellan to come up and have someone prepare tea," she instructed her assistant.
• Zayla swiftly transferred two million to Carsen's account as her assistant fetched Stellan. She watched her phone screen fade to black, receiving no gratitude from her father. With a wry chuckle, she tossed the phone onto the table.
• "Ms. Steele, Dr. Miller is here," the assistant announced.
• The office door was slightly ajar, and Zayla gestured for the assistant to leave as Stellan entered. "Please, take a seat over here," she indicated, leading Stellan to the sofa in her spacious office, which boasted a meeting area beside the full-length windows.
• Upon entering, Stellan caught the robust scent of coffee and noticed the half-empty cup on the table. He frowned, "Still drinking coffee?"
• "Why not?" Zayla pushed a teacup toward him, casually asking, "What brings you by today?"
• As Stellan settled into his seat, he remarked, "Seems you've forgotten our conversation last night."
• Zayla's hand hovered momentarily before she withdrew it, sinking quietly onto the sofa with her head lowered, resembling a remorseful child.
• "Today, you must come with me to the hospital. No excuses," Stellan insisted.
• Zayla lifted her head, avoiding Stellan's gaze and instead focusing on a withered plant nearby. She murmured softly, "What's the point?"
• "For a thorough examination so I can devise a treatment plan and possibly admit you into the hospital," Stellan replied, studying Zayla closely. It had only been a month since their last meeting, yet she had visibly lost weight. He couldn't fathom how someone who once dreaded a simple flu shot could endure the agony of stomach cancer.
• Zayla shook her head, her bangs shielding the emotions in her eyes. "Stellan, my illness is like this plant. The roots are already rotting, and no treatment can revive it."
• "Zay, how can you be certain it's incurable without trying?" Stellan challenged her gently. "You've worked tirelessly, spending years trying to please a man who doesn't love you. Why not dedicate some of that effort to your own well-being?" Stellan believed Zayla deserved more as a young woman who wasn't even twenty-four.
• She should have been vibrant and joyful, embracing life's finest moments, not settling for a lackluster marriage, burying herself in work, or enduring the suffering brought by cancer.
• Approaching Zayla, Stellan, always gentle, rested his hand on her head. "In this age of advanced medical technology, as long as you commit to treatment and surgery, there's..." He paused, seeing tears welling in Zayla's eyes.
• Zayla softly caressed the withered yellow leaf in her hand and whispered, "So, what's the surgery's success rate? Is it fifty percent, twenty percent, or merely a less than one percent chance?"
• Stellan pressed his lips together, opting for silence.