Jock Next Bed (BL)
Chapter 177: New responsibility

Chapter 177: New responsibility

Every wait felt like a boulder was pressing down on him. He waited over an hour for the helicopter to come since one was closeby. Maybe he should be thankful for it since they were able to get all the permissions required quickly. But the 3 hours flight almost sent him insane. It would have been 4 hours with a normal flight so he shouldn’t complain. But he couldn’t help it. They had come directly to his school. Just like his parents had landed the last time. But he didn’t have time to think about anything or what the others would be thinking. He got in and disappeared. He didn’t need to take anything from his room. He only took his phone. And called Sky twice. He didn’t pick up.

But he sent a text. It was simple, not sure how best to word everything, "Going home. I’ll explain later." He also sent the same text to Rachel.

The moment Chris stepped off the heli that evening, the weight of his new reality settled over him. The night air was cool, but it did nothing to calm the heat rushing through his body. Wilson was already waiting for him, looking unusually serious.

"Director Owen is at the hotel. There is going to be a press conference soon," One of her secretaries informed him as they walked toward the waiting car. He was referring to his mother.

"The conference is set to start in two hours. She wants you to join her there."

Chris barely heard him. "I want to see my father first."

Wilson answered first, shaking his head. "Only immediate medical staff is allowed in for now. Everything is tightly sealed. But I’m sure you can go there with your mum later."

Chris wanted to go straight to his mother, but Wilson stopped him again, further irritating him. "You can’t go looking like that."

Chris snapped. "Like what!?"

Wilson gestured at him—his slightly wrinkled hoodie, jeans with some light rips, and messy black-dyed hair with some red strands sticking out. It was how Chris had always dressed, blending in as an ordinary broke student. But now, that disguise was gone.

"You need to change first," Wilson said. "We’re dropping by your house."

Chris hesitated, then glanced down at himself. Right. He couldn’t show up looking like this, not with all the media watching.

Chris clenched his jaw. He hated feeling like an outsider to his own father’s condition. But there was nothing he could do right now.

As the car sped toward his home, Chris leaned back against the seat, staring out at the familiar cityscape which felt distant to him when it had not been a long time since he had left.

He could not wrap his head around how everything had changed too fast. One minute he was chatting lightly, living carefree, and next, he was back here. Throughout the flight back to this city, he had blamed himself constantly. He should have pressured his father to visit the hospital. They always acted like he was on the verge of death whenever he had a little fever. Why couldn’t they do the same for themselves? Why hadn’t he done the same for him?

At the estate, the staff was already prepared. A suit was laid out for him in his room, the kind he hadn’t worn in years. Even a fresh set of toiletries had been arranged—a good shampoo to wash out whatever stain he had on his hair which he called dye.

Everything looked expensive. Smelled expensive.

But he hadn’t known this until now, he missed the smell of his home. But it made his heart ache and heavy to be here because of this.

Chris stared at his reflection after changing.

The person in the mirror was... new.

Even the look in his eyes.

The suit fit him perfectly, his hair—now free of dye—fell naturally into place in their red shade.

He looked... proper.

He looked like the person he had spent years thinking whether he wanted to be or not.

By the time he finished, Wilson was already waiting for him. He could see it in the way Wilson looked at him. He looked sad. Like he wanted to help Chris do something but didn’t know what to help him with.

He simply gave him a weak smile.

"My father had been handling things from his end. So let your mum know this would be fine."

Chris nodded. He couldn’t say anything.

He didn’t know what to say.

"Let’s go. Your mother’s expecting you." A man in suit said as he opened the door to the black official car.

Chris didn’t say anything. He simply nodded and followed.

When he entered the private suite where his mother was working, he saw her immediately, watching her move with sharp precision.

She was already handling things—coordinating calls, giving quiet but firm instructions to the staff, preparing for a press conference that would reassure everyone that the family was in control.

She was the picture of composure, her voice steady as she spoke into the phone. "Yes, we will release a statement soon. No, there is no change in leadership at this moment. Yes, Christopher is back and will be handling things alongside me—" She cut herself off, her fingers tightening around her pen for the briefest second before she composed herself again.

She wasn’t stopping.

She stood in the middle of the room, giving instructions to the PR team, fixing last-minute details, her expression perfectly composed. There wasn’t a single crack in her poised demeanor.

Chris swallowed hard.

He had always known his mother was strong. But seeing her now—handling the crisis, maintaining order—it hit him differently.

He wanted to hug her. He wanted to tell her to rest. What if she collapsed again?

But he didn’t move.

Could he say that right now? Everything was falling apart. And he had no idea what he was doing here. Or what they expected him to do.

Even now, while his father was unconscious in a hospital bed, she was making sure the world didn’t see a crack in their foundation.

After a while, things wrapped up in here, with everyone running around, and his mother finally turned to him.

She approached him slowly, her sharp gaze softening as she reached out, straightening his suit. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, fixing his collar, hit tie, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles.

"You look good," she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. And then, her voice wavered.

Chris swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Chris saw it—the tremble in her hands, the way her smile turned shaky, how her breath hitched.

Before she could pull away, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

She stiffened for half a second before exhaling shakily, pressing her face into his shoulder. He felt her sniffle, her fingers gripping his jacket.

"You’re going to be fine," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "We’re going to be fine."

He felt her sniffle against his shoulder.

"Mom..."

She clutched onto him for a second longer before stepping back, wiping the corner of her eyes. "I’m fine."

She wasn’t.

Her lips pressed together. Then she exhaled.

"Chris... I know you don’t want this," she started, taking his hand. "You look lost. And all of this is just so overwhelming. But I am glad you are here." She squeezed his hand, sending him a small smile.

"And... while you may not want this... we need stability, Chris. People need reassurance. I know you’re not ready for this, but we don’t have a choice." She looked apologetic. Guilty.

And for a second, he thought she was going to cry.

His throat tightened. He wanted to ask why they needed stability with him. She had been doing a very great job. But he could not ask such a selfish question because it would imply he wanted her to handle things too.

While his father had his business, she had hers too. While she was an MD for their joint one, she was also a CEO.

If there was anyone who needed and should help his parents, it had to be him.

As if reading his thoughts, she said quietly, "I can hold things together for now. But in the end, they’re all looking at you."

Chris felt his stomach twist.

"Your father already let them know you are going to be the heir one day."

She saw the dread in his face and added, "It doesn’t have to be now. But your appearance would help assure everyone. The stocks are going down. And... this is how we can act."

She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes and then opening them up again as she exhaled. "I thought if you didn’t come here, I wouldn’t have to drag you into this. But you... you are your father’s son, after all. And Owen. And I am proud of you."

The words touched him so hard.

He usually wasn’t one to cry. He felt his throat tighten and he released a shaky breath as he looked away from his mother.

Before either could say anything else, an assistant knocked on the door. "Director, we’re ready for the press conference."

His mother straightened, pulling herself together and forcing a tight smile. "Let’s go."

Chris let out a slow breath. Then he followed her out.