Chapter 88

Andrew was exasperated. He had come to the Aicker residence to treat Francesca, but was mistaken for a romantic rival, forcing him to contend with Simon's hostility.

Andrew explained patiently, "Listen, your feelings for Francesca are your business. I'm here to provide the medical treatment she's paying me for, and afterward, whatever romantic plans you two have are entirely your own. I couldn't care less!"

Despite Simon's rudeness, Andrew understood his jealousy and let it pass.

Simon's expression softened slightly as he scoffed. "At least you know your place. But remember—only I have the right to treat Francesca's condition."

Andrew shrugged. "Fine. The Aickers clearly have it all figured out."

As Andrew turned to leave, Francesca called out, "Wait, Andrew!"

Simon's face darkened. "Fran, let him go. Don't you trust me?"

"Simon, I'm grateful for your devotion, but I'm sorry…" Francesca began hesitantly, biting her lip.

"Don't apologize, Fran," Simon interrupted. "I'd die for you. We've grown up together, studied together, and share the same passion for medicine. I've known for years you're the only woman for me."

Andrew cringed at the dramatic confession, though Simon's devotion seemed genuine. Cedric remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Simon, when I said I was sorry, that wasn't what I meant," Francesca clarified. "I've always seen you as an older brother. I've never thought of you romantically."

A stunned silence followed as Simon's face fell. Andrew suppressed a wince. The devoted Simon had been nursing a one-sided love.

It was a tragic scene. Francesca's heart lay elsewhere, and Simon had no chance.

"Fran, what are you saying?" Simon stumbled backward, his face pale. Francesca averted her gaze, mumbling, "Please don't be angry, Simon. I respect you greatly, but I just don't have those feelings for you."

"Stop, please stop!" Simon shouted, unable to accept her words. "You must be lying. After all these years, how could you not love me?"

"Simon, love isn't determined by time spent together," Francesca replied gently. "Besides, you're… not really my type."

"So you're saying I'm not good enough?" Simon's face flushed red.

Francesca chose her words carefully, clearly uncomfortable. "It's not that you're not good enough. It's just… you're five years older than me, and… you're kind of old-fashioned and serious. You don't exactly have the best sense of style."