### Chapter 100 An hour slipped by like the gentle tide, and soon enough, the driver arrived, laden with all of Elliot’s necessities. To Avery’s surprise, he had even brought a lavish dinner, neatly packed into lunch boxes and thermal containers, enough to feed at least three people. “Miss Tate, here’s Mr. Elliot’s medicine. Thank you for your hard work tonight!” The driver handed over the carefully prepared medications to Avery, his tone respectful and sincere. With that, he clocked out, leaving Avery to ponder the weight of her unwitting decision. Seated on the sofa, she stared at the assortment of Elliot’s belongings strewn across the polished table, a bittersweet ache swelling in her chest. Had she been too lenient? She chastised herself for not sending him away by noon—if she had only done that, the evening wouldn’t have unraveled into this chaotic mess. Just then, a sharp cough shattered her reverie, echoing from the bedroom, pulling her back to the present. With a resigned sigh, she picked up Elliot’s medicine and headed toward the bedroom, propping the door open to allow fresh air to circulate the space. Elliot had showered, his damp hair slicked back, and he wore clean clothes that contrasted strikingly with the disarray of the bedsheets. But the sight of the disheveled bedroom tugged at her heartstrings. “Do you have any hot water?” he rasped, his voice laced with thirst. Avery placed the medicine on the bedside table and turned to fetch him a glass of warm water. He trailed her, his presence a constant reminder of their complicated bond. “Where’s your mom?” he inquired, a hint of concern lacing his words. “Thanks to you,” Avery replied wryly, “she’s staying at the hotel tonight.” She handed him the glass, her eyes scrutinizing his gaunt features. “Are you hungry? The driver brought dinner. You should eat something.” His appetite, however, was subdued. “I’ll just have some soup,” he murmured, his voice lacking its usual vigor. She went to the coffee table, retrieving a bowl of steaming soup. He consumed it slowly, savoring each spoonful, yet Avery could see that he was still far from well. When he finally set down the spoon, an unexpected frown crossed his face. “I dirtied the bed,” he said, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his features. “Do you have clean sheets? I’ll change it.” Even in his pallor, after a shower, he seemed more alive. Avery resisted the urge to roll her eyes, unable to be angry with him. “Go dry your hair first. I’ll take care of the sheets,” she offered softly. “Where’s the hairdryer? I can’t find it,” he replied, searching the room with tired eyes. She rose, walking toward the bathroom to retrieve it. He followed closely, grabbing the hairdryer from her hand, their movements a synchrony born of familiarity. As she set to work changing the sheets and duvet, it felt as if they were playing roles in a well-rehearsed scene from a life they once shared. As the clock struck nine, Avery’s phone buzzed with life, jolting her from her thoughts. A video call flashed on the screen, and without a second thought, she hung up. Yet the persistent ring resumed, prompting her to take a deep breath and accept the call. On the other side of the screen, three familiar faces materialized, their expressions serious as they dove right into the heart of the matter. “Avery, have you considered the offer? Trust Capital is willing to invest in us… What’s holding you back?” one voice pressed, heavy with urgency. “I spoke with Charlie’s assistant today; he mentioned that Charlie has made no unreasonable demands and is simply waiting for your response,” another added. “I thought we were in agreement last time? Everything we discussed was for the benefit of the company. Are you considering backing out?” A third voice chimed in, frustration evident. Avery felt a tightening sensation in her temples as their voices swirled around her. “Give me another week,” she managed to say. “Another week?! You said the same thing last time,” one of them shot back incredulously. “And how long are you planning to postpone this?” the second voice chimed in. “If you truly don’t want the company to survive, rejecting Charlie is an option. You're neither accepting nor declining—it's baffling!” “Charlie’s father’s birthday is next weekend,” Avery explained, her voice steadier than she felt. “He invited me to the party. I promise, after that, I’ll give you my answer.” “A response to us? You’re really giving an answer to Charlie!” the first voice snapped, incredulous. “Yes… I’ll give him an answer next weekend. But for now, it’s past nine o’clock, and you guys should consider resting,” she replied, wanting to cut the call. After all, Elliot sat right beside her, and there was no indication he would be leaving her side tonight. As she ended the call, Avery felt the weight of the decisions looming ahead, tangled in a web of obligations and emotions, as profound as the silence lingering between her and Elliot.