CHAPTER 231: PRESS CONFERENCE MEETING.

The steady rhythm of Charles’s heartbeat returned, but his eyes remained closed.

"He’s going to be alright," the doctor said softly, though his voice carried a cautious weight. "All he needs now is to regain consciousness."

Augustine stood frozen, his gaze locked on Charles as the nurses ran more checkups on him.

A needle slid into Charles’s vein, attaching him to a drip and an oxygen mask was carefully fitted over his face, the steady hiss of air filling the room.

After a final round of checks, the doctor gave a slight bow, wordlessly signaling Augustine to follow.

Augustine understood at once and trailed after the doctor and into the hallway.

His chest tightened as he forced out the words, "So... is my Charles going to be okay?" Augustine inquired and his brows became arched, his eyes searching desperately for hope.

The doctor’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled. "I only hope the new medicine wasn’t administered too late. If it was, then..." he paused, lowering his tone, "there may be nothing more we can do." The doctor added and his voice was calm, yet it carried the full weight of his concern.

"But if we gave it in time, Charles has a strong chance. The drug has undergone rigorous testing. It’s designed to bring even a cancer patient on their deathbed back to life."

The words of the doctor made Augustine exhaled out loud in relief because he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath ever since stepping out of the hospital room, afraid of what the doctor might say.

But now, with those reassuring words, a fragile sense of hope and relief began to stir within Augustine.

"So... um, when do you think Charles will wake up?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"That, I can’t say," the doctor replied gently. "What I do know is that he mustn’t be disturbed. You can visit him, but keep your voice low and avoid saying anything that might agitate him."

Augustine nodded, his throat tight. He wiped the wet streaks from his face with the back of his hand and forced a shaky smile. "Alright," he murmured.

His gaze lingered on the hospital door for a long moment before he whispered to himself, "Charles... please, get better. For me."

With that, Augustine turned and stepped back into the room.

Upon opening the door, Augustine froze, surprised to see Reginald standing by Charles’s bedside with silent tears streaming down his face.

"Hey," Augustine called softly.

Reginald quickly wiped his cheeks and turned, managing a weak smile. "Hey," he replied, stepping aside to make room for Augustine.

For a moment, the two men stood in silence, the steady beep of the heart monitor filling the room.

Reginald’s eyes lingered on Charles before flickering back to Augustine, hesitation written all over his face.

"CEO Augustine," Reginald began carefully, his tone low, "I know this isn’t the right time... but there’s something I need to tell you."

He exhaled, as though forcing the words out. "Your company’s image... it’s been taking heavy blows since you came out publicly. The board is restless, investors are backing out. And with you here at the hospital, the press has been circling nonstop."

Augustine’s gaze snapped to him, disbelief shadowing his expression. "You’re talking about business? Now?" Augustine inquired coldly, his voice cracked with restrained anger.

Reginald lowered his eyes, guilt flashing across his face. "I wouldn’t bring this up if it wasn’t urgent. There’s a press meeting scheduled in an hour. If you don’t address them, the damage might be irreversible."

Augustine’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving as he glanced back at Charles’s still body.

For a split second, he looked torn apart between the man he loved and the empire he had built.

"Fuck! What the hell, Reginald!" Augustine snapped. "Do you even realize what you’re saying? Are you seriously suggesting I leave my man alone in this Godforsaken place? Have you completely lost your mind?"

Reginald swallowed hard and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, the door to the hospital room slid open.

"I think you both should take this argument outside," Freda said sharply, her tone laced with authority. "The doctor just warned us not to make noise or say anything that could trigger Charles. So if you want to yell, please do it out there."

Even though Freda added the word "please," her voice carried a cold finality that left no room for debate.

Augustine exhaled, fluttering his lashes in frustration before storming out of the room. Reginald trailed behind, silent, with guilt written all over his face.

As the hospital room door slid shut, Reginald continued, his tone firm but measured. "Look, Augustine, you’re my boss and more than that, you’re also my friend. If I’m being honest, sitting in there with a broken expression on your face isn’t what Charles would want for you. He’d want you out there, fighting, proving to the world that your love for him doesn’t diminish your ability to run a company."

Augustine scoffed, his jaw tightening. "Are you suggesting I deny Charles? Again?"

"Of course not," Reginald quickly countered, shaking his head. "What I’m saying is that you need to show people that being gay doesn’t make you any less of a leader. Hiding won’t help, Augustine. And when Charles wakes up... because I believe he will... he’ll be furious if he finds out you did nothing to protect everything you’ve built."

Reginald’s words hung heavy in the corridor, his final point aimed like an arrow straight at Augustine’s heart.

Reginald was using Charles to boost Augustine’s confidence.

Eventually, Augustine found himself nodding, though his chest still burned with hesitation.

"For Charles’ sake, I’ll go to the conference," he said firmly. "But only if you promise me you’ll stay with him while I’m gone. I don’t trust my mother not to pull something reckless."

Reginald’s brows furrowed, and he shook his head. "Augustine, I can’t. I need to be at the conference with you, to guide the speech and make sure you don’t get cornered—"

"Then forget it!" Augustine snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "If you won’t promise me, I’m not leaving his side. That’s final."

Reginald clenched his teeth, exhaling sharply. "Fine!" he hissed. "I’ll stay. I’ll watch over Charles and make sure nothing happens to him." His lips curled into a strained, reluctant smile.

Only then did Augustine snatch the car keys from his hand.

He hesitated for a beat, his eyes flicking back toward the hospital room as if torn in two, before forcing himself to stride out of the building and toward the car.

Deep down, Augustine was torn. He didn’t want to leave Charles’s side, not when his health hung by a thread, yet he knew that stepping out to face the public might finally give him the freedom he had long been denied.

Augustine turned on the car engine, the low hum echoing as he pulled onto the main road.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a message from Reginald: "The press conference is going to take place at Gyapm Grand Hall—the same place where the fashion event launch was held."

Augustine let out a weary sigh, already imagining the swarm of reporters waiting to devour every word and movement.

Still, he couldn’t back down. Not now.

With one hand gripping the wheel and the other briefly tapping at his phone, he dialed a few numbers, instructing his security personnel to be on standby as his foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the car surging forward.

By the time the city lights of Gyapm Grand Hall came into view, Augustine had arrived with ten minutes to spare before the hour struck.

"Isn’t that CEO Augustine’s car?" a female reporter shouted, her voice slicing through the crowd.

In an instant, heads turned, and the restless group of journalists surged forward, eyes fixed on the sleek vehicle rolling toward the venue.

"He’s here!" another yelled, and the chaos erupted.

Camera flashes exploded like lightning, blinding in their intensity, while a sea of microphones thrust toward the car.

The reporters swarmed, banging on the windows and jostling for position.

"CEO Augustine, is it true you’re gay?"

"What really happened at Mr. Edison’s birthday party?"

"Since when did you know?"

"You once claimed Aubrey was your girlfriend—was that a lie?"

"Are shareholders pulling away from your company?"

"If you’re gay, then who’s your partner?"

"Do you understand the weight of what you said at Mr. Edison’s party?"

Questions overlapped, voices colliding in a frenzy that made the air thrum with tension but Augustine sat still behind the wheel, his jaw tight, hands locked around the steering.

The flashbulbs flickered against his windshield, each burst like a spotlight but Augustine didn’t roll the window down.

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he reached for his phone, the screen glowing in the storm of chaos outside.

His thumbs tapped quickly as he typed a text message to Reginald. "How’s my pookie?"

After typing the message, Augustine hit send and leaned back, waiting.

Not for the reporters clawing at his car, but for the security men he had summoned thirty minutes ago.