It was dinner hour. And the table was covered in outrageously expensive seafood.
Everything looked perfect. Everything smelled incredible.
According to romance-novel logic, when the stubborn heroine is starving, the male lead should generously invite her to eat—because she might be the miracle worker who'll get his mother walking again.
And Andres did move.
With practiced ease, he removed meat from a king crab leg, arranging the pieces neatly on a plate.
Then he slid the entire plate—not to Natalia—
but straight to Maeve.
"The Imperial flies their seafood in daily from the coast. It's fresh. And it's good."
With someone willing to serve her, Maeve had no reason to refuse.
She kept eating, clearly enjoying herself.
Anya and Natalia, left there watching: "…"
Andres finally looked at Natalia. "Tell me your terms."
Natalia forced herself not to look at the feast.
She held up five fingers. "Five million."
To ordinary people, it was an unimaginable sum.
To Andres, it was probably less than the price of one watch.
Natalia hurried to clarify, "That five million isn't for me personally."
"I'm representing St. Mercy Hospital. I'm requesting a donation from Mr. White."
"The director is a good person. Whenever patients can't afford treatment, the hospital opens an emergency charity channel."
"But helping so many people means the staff can't be paid."
"Nurses and doctors are quitting. The hospital could shut down."
"We need an investment to keep it running."

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