On the contrary, Phillips remained calm. His expression showed concern, but he didn’t flinch. It seemed Eric had lost trust in him.
Realizing this, Xander shook his head and protested, “Mr. Scott, I can’t do what Phillips does.”
He was a trained bodyguard, not some uneducated street thug; still, he couldn’t hold a candle to Phillips. The man had received the same elite education as Eric.
“There’s nothing you can’t do,” said Eric, chewing casually on the pancake.
“Learn it. You’ve got a whole secretary team behind you.”
Xander kept shaking his head.
“Mr. Scott, it’s true that Phillips kept some things from you, but we were all in on it. If someone needs to take the fall, let it be me. Just let Phillips keep his post—”
“Shut up.” Eric’s gaze turned cold, his voice dropping low with a dangerous edge.
“What position does he hold? What responsibilities does he carry? Isn’t he the one giving orders to all of you?”
He then turned to Phillips and asked, “Are you feeling wronged? Got anything to say for yourself?”
At last, Phillips shook his head and spoke with difficulty.
“I don’t. It’s my fault. I have no excuse.”
“Of course. You wouldn’t dare.” Eric stuffed the rest of the pancake into his mouth and chewed it.
He didn’t speak while chewing, but the sound of it filled the room with an inexplicable tension.
When he finally swallowed, he looked at them both again.
“Phillips, you’re being reassigned to the security team from now on. Xander, go change.”
Xander glanced down. Sure enough, he was still in uniform.
“Leave, and do your job properly.”
“Yes, Mr. Scott.”
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“Yes, Mr. Scott!”
Moments later, Xander returned in a crisp suit, ready for his new role.
“Mr. Scott, what should I do first?”
Eric shot him a look and let out a cold sneer.
“You’re my special assistant, and you’re asking me?”
“Oh… right,” Xander mumbled, flustered. He grabbed a tablet and quickly scanned the schedule.
“You have a follow-up at the hospital today.”
“Then why are we still here?” Eric asked, already getting into the car.
Since the surgery, he’d been attending routine check-ups—first every week, then once every two weeks, and now once a month. Phillips had arranged the appointment the day before.
At the hospital, after a series of tests and scans, the doctor finally reviewed the results.
“Mr. Scott, everything looks good. Your recovery’s been steady. It’s been six months now. From here on, you’ll only need to come back in another six.”
Eric nodded nonchalantly, not particularly concerned about the results. He tapped a finger against his temple.
“What I want to know is how long until I can remember the past?”
.
.
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