Pampered By The Cold Mind Reading Tycoon

Elba forced her heavy eyelids open. The harsh afternoon sunlight pouring through the hospital window stabbed at her retinas. She raised a weak, trembling hand to block the glare. Her throat felt like it was coated in dry sand.

A tall shadow instantly eclipsed the light.

Angelo stood up from the custom leather sofa. His broad shoulders blocked the window entirely, casting a dark, suffocating presence over the hospital bed. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his posture rigid.

"Are you done playing dead?" Angelo's voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. "Is this your new strategy to avoid taking responsibility for pushing Georgina down the stairs?"

Elba's chest tightened. She couldn't form words through her parched throat. She shrank back against the pillows, pulling her shoulders inward, her eyes wide with defensive panic.

Angelo let out a harsh breath through his nose. He reached out and slammed his finger onto the nurse call button above her bed.

Elba watched his broad back. A sudden, violent rush of images flooded her brain-a horrific vision from her coma. The destruction of the Potter family. Her own miserable death. It wasn't a memory, but a terrifying prophecy. It was all going to be real.

This stupid brother, Elba thought, her internal voice screaming in the silence of her mind. He's still yelling at me for that fake heiress Georgina. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to federal prison next month!

Angelo's finger froze on the plastic button. His knuckles turned stark white.

He whipped his head around. His sharp, dark eyes locked onto Elba's face. He scanned the room, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Elba felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to sleep, her breathing erratic.

Angelo looked at the empty corners of the VIP room. There were no speakers. No other people. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

The Potter Group is going to file for bankruptcy because of forged financial statements, Elba complained in her head, keeping her eyes clamped shut. Angelo is just the pathetic Wall Street scapegoat.

The words rang crystal clear inside Angelo's skull. It wasn't a sound in the room. It was a voice echoing directly in his brain.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He closed the distance to the bed in two long strides and grabbed Elba's wrist.

Elba gasped in pain. She opened her eyes, staring at him in sheer terror. She bit down hard on her lower lip, refusing to speak.

"What did you just say?" Angelo demanded, his voice a low, dangerous hiss. He leaned in close, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek.

Elba shook her head frantically.

Is he crazy? she screamed internally. Is he going to strangle me to death right now to get revenge for Georgina?

Angelo dropped her wrist like it was burning hot metal.

He stumbled back two steps. His shoulder blades hit the cold plaster wall. He stared at his own hands, his breathing shallow and fast. He was losing his mind. He had to be.

The heavy wooden door pushed open. The attending physician rushed in, followed by three nurses.

The doctor clicked on a penlight and leaned over Elba. "Miss Potter, how are you feeling? Follow the light, please."

"Just dizzy," Elba whispered. Her voice was a raspy, broken croak.

Angelo watched her meek, obedient expression from the wall.

My head hurts so much, Elba's voice echoed in his brain again. I definitely have a concussion from Georgina pushing me down those stairs yesterday.

Angelo's pupils dilated. His stomach dropped. He had been told Elba slipped. Georgina had cried for hours saying Elba lost her balance.

Angelo pushed off the wall. He grabbed the attending physician by the collar of his white coat, lifting him slightly onto his toes.

"Get her a full neurological workup," Angelo ordered, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. "MRI, CT scan, everything. Now."

The doctor paled, his hands shaking as he gripped Angelo's wrists. "Y-yes, Mr. Potter. Right away. Nurses, get the wheelchair."

Angelo let him go. The nurses hurried forward, carefully helping Elba sit up and shift into the wheelchair.

Elba let them move her, keeping her head down.

Fine, scan me, she muttered in her mind. I hope you find a terminal illness. I don't want to stay in this bankrupt, toxic family for another single day.

A thick vein bulged on Angelo's forehead. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets, curling his fingers into tight fists until his nails dug into his palms.

He followed the wheelchair out of the room. The cold air of the hospital corridor hit his face. He pulled out his phone with a stiff hand and typed a message to his executive assistant: Pull the security footage from the main staircase at the estate. Yesterday afternoon. Do it now.

Angelo stood in the sterile hallway outside the imaging center. He stared through the thick glass window at the massive MRI machine swallowing Elba. He reached up and yanked his silk tie loose, the fabric slipping through his fingers.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out.

Boss, the security footage for that specific hour is missing. A reported network failure.

Angelo stared at the screen. The skin around his eyes tightened. A cold, heavy knot formed in his gut. The suspicion regarding Georgina took root, growing rapidly into a dark certainty.

The heavy metal door opened. The attending physician walked out, wiping sweat from his forehead with a tissue. "Mr. Potter, her brain and nervous system are completely normal. No physical damage."

Angelo snatched the medical report from the doctor's hand. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the data. Nothing. She was physically fine.

A nurse wheeled Elba out into the hallway. Angelo stepped behind the wheelchair. He looked at the medical staff.

"Get out," Angelo said.

The doctor and nurses scattered instantly.

Angelo pushed the wheelchair back to the VIP room. He closed the door until it clicked shut. The silence in the room was suffocating.

He walked to the side of the bed. He pulled up a heavy chair and sat down, crossing his long legs. He rested his elbows on the armrests, staring at her.

"Elba," Angelo said, his voice low and probing. "Did you mention something about the company's financial statements earlier?"

Elba's heart skipped a beat. She forced a blank, innocent look onto her face and shook her head slowly.

How does he know? her mind raced. Did I accidentally say it out loud? Impossible. My throat hurts too much to speak!

Angelo's lips twitched. A microscopic, cold smile touched the corners of his mouth. He wasn't hallucinating.

He leaned forward, dropping his voice lower. "Georgina is coming to see you this afternoon. You two had better make peace."

Elba shrank back into the pillows, pulling the white blanket up to her chin. Her eyes darted away from him.

Make peace my ass! Elba cursed internally. That manipulative bitch is just coming to check if I'm dead! She still has that forged paternity test hidden in her designer bag!

Angelo flinched. The words forged paternity test hit him like a physical blow to the chest.

He stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. He walked to the window, turning his back to Elba. He took a deep, ragged breath, forcing his lungs to expand.

Elba watched his broad back.

My brother is so blind, she thought. Georgina is selling him out, and he's helping her count the cash. Poor Potter family.

Angelo spun around. He closed the distance to the bed in three heavy steps. The disgust that usually filled his eyes when he looked at her was gone, replaced by a dark, intense focus.

He reached out. His large hand grabbed the edge of her blanket. He tuck it roughly, but securely, around her shoulders.

Elba froze. Her muscles locked up. She stared at him like a cornered rabbit.

Angelo cleared his throat. "Georgina isn't coming today," he said stiffly. "I told her to stay home and reflect on her actions."

Elba's eyes widened. She blinked twice.

Did the sun rise in the west? she cheered in her mind. The tyrant brother isn't helping the white lotus bully me?

Angelo's jaw clenched at the word tyrant. He forced himself to breathe out slowly.

He turned to the bedside table. He picked up the plastic water pitcher and poured a glass. He tested the temperature against his wrist, then held it out to her lips.

Elba stared at the water, pressing her lips together.

Did he poison this? she wondered.

Angelo's fingers tightened around the glass. He shoved it into her hands. "Drink it. Stop staring at it like I'm trying to kill you."

Elba gripped the glass with both hands. She took a small, careful sip. The warm water coated her raw throat, easing the pain.

Angelo watched her swallo,His mind was made up, He wasn't letting her out of his sight, She was a walking vault of secrets, and he was going to extract every single one.

The automatic doors of the hospital lobby slid open. The crisp New York autumn wind hit them immediately.

Angelo wore a perfectly tailored suit. He pushed Elba's wheelchair out onto the pavement with one hand. He stopped, shrugged off his suit jacket, and draped it over Elba's thin shoulders. He didn't ask; he just did it.

Elba gripped the lapels of the jacket, It smelled of cedar and expensive cologne.

Did the tyrant take the wrong medication today? she thought, utterly bewildered. Why is he being so considerate?

Angelo's lips curved upward a fraction of an inch. He ignored her internal commentary and pushed the wheelchair toward the black Maybach idling at the curb.

The driver, Kris Day, rushed forward. He pulled open the rear door and bowed his head respectfully. "Mr. Potter."

Elba looked up. She saw Kris's face. Her pupils dilated. She jerked her body backward in the wheelchair.

Oh my god! It's Kris! her mind screamed in panic. This degenerate gambler! Next week he's going to tamper with the brakes to pay off his loan sharks, and Angelo is going to die in a car crash!

Angelo was reaching down to help her stand. He froze. His dark eyes instantly turned to ice.

Kris smiled and reached his hands out to grab Elba's arms.

Angelo slapped Kris's hands away with a sharp, violent smack.

"Get back," Angelo snarled. "I'll do it."

Kris stumbled back a step, his face flushing red. He lowered his head, hiding the flash of resentment in his eyes.

Angelo bent down. He slid one arm under Elba's knees and the other behind her back. He lifted her effortlessly, holding her tight against his chest, and placed her onto the leather seat.

Elba held her breath.

His muscles are like rocks, she thought, her heart fluttering before panic set back in. No, stop being an idiot! I can't get in this car!

Angelo slid in next to her. He slammed the heavy door shut, sealing them inside.

He pulled out his phone. His thumbs flew across the screen, sending an encrypted message to his head of security.

Kris got into the driver's seat. He started the engine. He looked in the rearview mirror. "Boss, back to the Long Island estate?"

Elba gripped the seatbelt tight enough to make her knuckles ache.

Don't go back to the estate! she shrieked internally. That toxic snake Georgina probably oiled the stairs waiting for me!

Angelo met Kris's eyes in the mirror. His voice was dead flat. "No. Take us to the Manhattan penthouse."

Kris blinked in surprise, but he put the car in drive and merged into the city traffic.

Elba let out a long, shaky exhale.

Thank god, she thought. The penthouse is his private fortress. Georgina can't get in there. He actually has a conscience.

The car ride was completely silent. Angelo leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. His phone buzzed against his thigh. He opened it, angling the screen away from Elba.

The security report loaded. Preliminary checks on Kris Day showed multiple recent high-risk wire transfers to known offshore gambling havens. It was a massive red flag, with the full report still pending, but the implications were obvious.

Angelo's eyes snapped open. The air in the back of the Maybach grew heavy with his killing intent.

The car pulled smoothly into the underground garage of the Manhattan high-rise. Kris put it in park and hurried out to open Angelo's door.

Angelo stepped out. He reached in and pulled Elba out, keeping her close to his side.

Angelo turned his head slowly. He stared at Kris with eyes like shattered glass. "Kris. You're fired."

Kris's face drained of all color. "B-boss? Why?"

Angelo let out a dark, humorless laugh. He shoved his phone screen inches from Kris's face, showing the bank statements. "Do I need to call the police regarding your intent to accept bribes and sabotage my vehicles?"

Kris's knees buckled. He collapsed onto the concrete floor, gasping for air.

Elba stood frozen. Her jaw dropped.

How did he know?! she thought, her mind reeling. Did he plant a microchip in my brain?!