Chapter 3

Harrison's Perspective

The emergency room door slid open once again.

I was the first to rush forward, gripping the doctor's arm, my voice tight: "How's my Grandma?"

"Severe cranial injury, comminuted fracture of the left leg, not out of danger yet. Needs to be transferred to ICU for observation."

I nodded after hearing this, my jawline tensed tightly.

Mrs. Forrester was wheeled out, not a trace of color on her face, an oxygen mask covering her pale mouth and nose.

I walked alongside the bed for a couple of steps, when a thought suddenly flashed through my mind—Luci said she didn't tell Grandma.

Then how did Grandma know we went to the courthouse? Who exactly told her?

I turned back, my gaze passing over the crowd and landing on Luci.

She was leaning against the wall, her face white as paper. The blood on her forehead had dried, stuck to her hair, forming dark red scabs.

That kick Hazel gave her was really hard. She could barely stand now, yet she hadn't made a sound.

I remember she used to be a crybaby, would cry for ages over the slightest scratch. How could she endure so much now?

I withdrew my gaze and said to my assistant: "Give her a card, have her get that wound treated. Don't let her die here, bad luck."

I wasn't concerned about Luci, just that if Grandma woke up and saw her looking like a ghost, she'd worry again.

The assistant walked over quickly. I saw Luci shake her head, say something, the assistant stood there awkwardly, then she accepted the card.

Outside the ICU.

I stood outside the glass window, staring at Grandma's pale face, feeling terrible inside. Grandma was so old, yet still had to suffer like this. I really wished I could take her place.

Hazel came running over with red eyes. Seeing Luci, she screamed with hatred: "Bitch, you still have the face to stand here?"

I didn't turn around: "Hazel, enough."

Not because I felt sorry for Luci. It was just that making a scene in the hospital looked bad, and if word got out, it would be news again.

Hazel stamped her foot, bit her lip, and retreated to the side.

Just then, Summer was wheeled over by a nurse. Her head was wrapped in gauze, her face pale, looking so weak she might shatter at any moment: "Harrison."

I turned to glance at her.

She was injured trying to save Grandma. I remembered this favor.

"Rest well, I'll come see you tomorrow." After I spoke, I turned back to continue watching the ICU.

Summer's expression seemed to freeze for a moment, but I didn't pay attention.

Night deepened. Hazel was sent home by the driver, Summer also went to her ward. The corridor quieted down, only the faint beeping of the cardiac monitor remained.

Behind me came the slight sound of a chair, the sound of Luci slowly standing up.

"Go get that wound treated." I didn't turn around.

She didn't move.

I turned around.

She was still standing there, her body swaying slightly, the blood scab on her forehead glaring under the lights. That cheap T-shirt hung loosely on her body.

These past few years, she'd turned herself into a refugee.

My brows knitted together: "Are you deaf or do you want to die?"

"Minor injury, no problem." Her voice was calm, as if talking about someone else.

Minor injury? A bleeding forehead is a minor injury?

I strode over, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her toward the emergency room.

"Harrison, let go of me." Her whole body trembled, and she began to struggle violently.

I ignored her. Her wrist was so thin I could grip it in one hand, the wrist bone pressing against my palm, skinny beyond belief.

"Can you just calm down?" I lowered my voice, my tone full of impatience, "Grandma's lying right in there, and you still want to make a scene?"

"I'm not making a scene..." She opened her mouth to explain.

"Shut up." I cut her off, "What else can you do besides cause trouble?"

She pressed her lips together and said nothing more.

The emergency doctor treated the wound on her forehead. When the alcohol swab pressed against it, she furrowed her brows and clenched her fists, but didn't make a sound.

I stood beside her, looking down at her from above.

"If it hurts, cry out. What are you pretending for?"

She ignored me.

My gaze moved from her forehead to her tailbone area. Her sitting posture was wrong, her body slightly tilted to one side, obviously avoiding something.

I reached out and pressed on her tailbone.

She drew in a sharp breath, her whole body springing up, glaring at me: "What are you doing?"

Her eyes were red, holding back tears that didn't fall, exactly like that year when we registered our marriage and I threw her flowers in the trash, her expression then.

I looked away and said to the doctor: "Get her an X-ray."

"No need." She spoke up.

"Shut up." I interrupted her, "Before Grandma wakes up, you better not have any problems. If she sees you like this, she'll worry again. You've already caused her car accident, what more do you want?"

This sentence was like a knife. I saw her face stiffen another degree.

She closed her mouth.

The X-ray came out: minor tailbone fracture.

My expression darkened. That kick from Hazel was vicious enough.

The doctor said she needed rest and couldn't sit for long.

"Did you hear?" I looked at her, "Don't go running around, stay put."

Back at Forrester Manor, it was already 2 AM.

She supported herself against the wall, limping toward the guest room.

I followed slowly behind her. Not because I cared about her, mainly because I was afraid she'd fall and die in my house, bad luck.

She stopped, I stopped too.

"Mr. Forrester, I can walk to the guest room myself." She turned back, her voice calm and distant.

"This is my house, I'll walk wherever I want." I leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, tone casual.

She acted as if she hadn't heard, turned and walked away.

I stared at her back, a indescribable stuffiness in my chest, and blurted out: "Those three years, where did you go?"

Her footsteps didn't stop, but her spine obviously stiffened for a moment.

"None of your business."

She pushed open the door and walked in.

Bang!

The door closed.

I stood there, staring at that dark red door panel, so angry my head hurt.

What an ungrateful girl.

As I turned, my peripheral vision caught a flash of a figure at the stairway.

Unfortunately, at that time I was only focused on being angry with Luci and didn't pay attention. I frowned impatiently, returned to my own room, and slammed the door even louder than she had.

Later I learned that that fleeting figure would plunge Luci and me into an irreconcilable deadlock.

I lay in bed. Just thinking about the person sleeping in the next bedroom made me a bit nervous. Before falling into deep sleep, I thought groggily, would I dream of Luci again? I felt a faint anticipation of meeting her in my dreams.

The next morning, I had just woken up when Hazel came bursting in.

I glared at her, very displeased: "What the hell, why don't you knock before entering?"

"Sorry, I really couldn't wait to knock. I just checked Luci's call records. Turns out she was the one who called Grandma. That bitch acted so innocent yesterday, she really knows how to put on a show." Hazel cursed.

I frowned and took the call records. Sure enough, I saw Luci's call to Grandma, timed exactly half an hour before the car accident.

Summer's Perspective

I hid by Harrison's bedroom door, watching his reaction, glad I made that decision last night.

Last night, I received a call from a maid at Forrester Manor. On the phone, she said Harrison personally brought Luci home and intimately escorted her upstairs.

When did he become so good to that bitch? I was so angry!

I first met Harrison when I was 19. He was wearing a worn leather jacket, leaning against a motorcycle. Two beautiful women came over to chat him up. He spoke casually, then glanced lightly in my direction.

Just that one glance, and my heart felt like someone had wrung it, an electric numbness exploding from the back of my head. But he had too many girlfriends and admirers. He never looked at me properly.

To get him, I had my father save him then fake his death. Harrison thought my father died saving him, felt very guilty, and would do anything I asked. But he never said he loved me, much less said he would marry me.

I knew he'd been looking for the woman who slept with him three years ago. I also knew that woman was Luci, but I would never let him know, and would never let them be together.

I dialed a hacker's number, "Mr. Miller, I need you to modify a call record."

After hanging up, I smiled. This time I would not only make Harrison completely despise Luci, but also have her tortured by Harrison until she wished she were dead.