Julian Wilde furrowed his brow, wracking his brain for the name.
"Got too much time on your hands?" Miles Warren’s voice suddenly dropped, turning icy.
"Look at you. So many years have passed, and you still get worked up over ancient history!"
Julian Wilde mumbled as he started to back away.
"Alright, alright, I’m leaving. I’ll get out of your hair, okay?"
Claire Kendall lowered her gaze, a glint flashing in her eyes.
’So, Miles Warren’s ’one he never got over’ is also in the design industry.’
’A similar face, a similar profession... no wonder he’s always helping me.’
’Logically, this is a huge advantage—a stepping stone practically tailor-made for my "plan."’
’But deep down, a strange, indefinable frustration began to bubble up. It wasn’t fatal, but it was incredibly unsettling.’
Miles Warren’s voice was flat. "Are you done talking?"
His gaze swept, seemingly unintentionally, past her to Ian Rhodes, who was still standing there looking back at them. The darkness in Miles’s eyes deepened.
"Are you having dinner with your old classmate tonight?"
Claire Kendall looked up at him.
The man’s face was devoid of emotion, maintaining its usual cool and self-possessed expression.
But she still keenly sensed the displeasure beneath his calm facade.
A teasing impulse struck her, and she deliberately dragged out her words.
"Yes, we are old classmates, after all. We haven’t seen each other in years—"
Miles Warren’s jaw tightened slightly, a change she took in completely.
"Dr. Warren," she said, suddenly stepping closer. She tilted her face up, her eyes curving into a sly arc like a little fox that had just stolen a fish. "Are you jealous?"
Miles Warren’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t speak, just watched her quietly.
"Just teasing," she said, quitting while she was ahead and adopting a well-behaved demeanor. "We didn’t make dinner plans. I’m going to the hospital to see my mom. Dr. Warren, would you mind giving me a ride?"
He looked away, the tension in his jaw easing slightly.
「Aethel General Hospital, patient ward.」
Shirley Kendall’s complexion was much better than before. She was sitting up, propped against a pillow.
A smile lit up her eyes when she saw her daughter. "Claire, you’re here. You’ve lost weight again."
"It’s all my fault... this half-dead body of mine is dragging you down..."
"Mom, don’t say that." Claire Kendall suppressed the bitterness in her heart, forcing a cheerful tone. "Moonstone just landed a big contract. Business is great, so we’re not short on money."
"You just stay here in the hospital and wait for your surgery with peace of mind. Don’t think about anything else."
Shirley Kendall nodded in relief. "Our Claire is so capable."
"Where’s Jacob? Why didn’t he come with you?"
Claire Kendall’s heart sank, but she couldn’t let it show on her face.
"He’s busy with work at the company and had to go on a business trip. I’ll have him come see you when you’re feeling a little better."
"Okay. Jacob is a good kid. He used to come visit me at the hospital all the time."
She patted her daughter’s hand, her voice filled with earnest concern.
"The Sinclair Family’s status is high, but Jacob truly has you in his heart. And you’re so outstanding and competent, the Sinclairs will accept you."
"Mom doesn’t hope for anything else, just for you to have a good life."
A lump formed in Claire Kendall’s throat. She forced a smile and quickly changed the subject.
She stayed and talked with her a while longer. When Shirley Kendall grew tired and fell into a deep sleep, Claire tiptoed out of the room.
In the hallway, Claire Kendall saw Miles Warren, who had changed into his white doctor’s coat.
"Your mother’s condition is stable for now. About the kidney donor..."
Before he could finish, a fierce argument erupted, punctuated by sharp cries and wails.
A middle-aged man was roaring at the nurses’ station.
"Quacks! A bunch of quacks! My son was only six months old! Do you know how much my wife suffered to get pregnant, and you just killed him...!"
The man was holding a young nurse with a dagger to her throat.
The others, trembling in fear, tried frantically to de-escalate the situation.
Medication and equipment were smashed all over the floor.
Miles Warren’s brow furrowed tightly. He blocked Claire Kendall, saying, "Go downstairs. Don’t come over here."
He strode quickly toward the scene.
The nurses’ station was in shambles. The man was completely out of control, his eyes bloodshot.
"I want to see the attending physician! I want to see your supervisor! Get him out here!"
The blade grazed the young nurse’s face, and she screamed in terror.
"Help me, help me, Dr. Warren..."
Miles Warren’s voice was clear and steady. "You can tell me your demands. Put the knife down first. Don’t do something you’ll regret."
The man looked at him, his mind consumed by despair and rage.
"Not a single one of you is any good! You’re the ones who killed my son!"
He refused to listen to any explanation, brandishing the dagger and charging straight at Miles Warren.
Security guards tried to intervene, but it all happened too fast.
The surrounding crowd scattered and fled.
Miles Warren’s eyes were cold as he quickly dodged, but the man swung the dagger again.
The angle was viciously awkward and impossible to evade. Instinctively, Miles raised his arm to block.
His priority was to protect his hands.
A slender figure lunged from behind him, recklessly throwing herself in front of Miles Warren.
She didn’t have time to think. In that instant, her mind went completely blank.
*SHINK—*
The dagger tore through fabric and plunged into her arm.
Claire Kendall let out a muffled groan of pain as blood gushed out. She staggered and fell into Miles Warren’s arms.
The screams from the crowd grew louder.
The sight of blood seemed to sober the man. He stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor, his eyes vacant.
The air seemed to freeze in that second.
Miles Warren stared at the instantly pale face of the woman in his arms, at the blood pouring from her arm. A wave of panic unlike anything he had ever felt engulfed him, and he could barely breathe.
"Claire Kendall!"
He wrapped his long arms around her, holding her body tight.
"Miles Warren," the woman in his arms managed, forcing her eyes open. Her forehead was beaded with cold sweat as she struggled to pull a weak smile. "Are... are you okay? It doesn’t hurt..."
"Don’t talk." Miles Warren gritted his teeth, swept her up into his arms, and carefully placed her on the gurney a nurse had wheeled over.
His movements were gentler than ever, as if he were holding a fragile treasure.
A surgeon rushed over, put on sterile gloves, cut open the sleeve of Claire Kendall’s clothes, and wheeled her into the CT room for a scan.
"No bones were hit. It’s a flesh wound, but it’s a bit deep. She’ll need stitches."
Lying on the gurney, Claire Kendall’s body trembled slightly as she heard the doctor’s words.
The pain had gone numb, but she was scared. Her uninjured hand gripped tightly onto Miles Warren’s shirt.
The man leaned down and soothed her with a low voice in her ear, "The anesthetic shot won’t hurt."
Claire Kendall bit her lip and nodded. The fear was only just hitting her now. ’Thank god it was just my arm.’
「In the treatment room.」
She was given a local anesthetic. Seeing the pile of suturing tools, her body went weak again.
Miles Warren noticed her distress and raised a hand to cover her eyes.
"Don’t be afraid. I’m here."
But when Miles Warren saw the gruesome wound on her arm, he was the one who panicked first. His fingers trembled uncontrollably.
A torrent of emotion surged through him, and a thousand chaotic thoughts flooded his mind.
’What if it had hit a vital spot? What if she had died?’
It was the first time in his life that he had ever lost his composure while facing a surgical procedure.
By the time the surgeon finished the last stitch, Claire Kendall had fallen into a deep sleep.
She was moved to a regular ward. After handling her admission paperwork, Miles Warren stayed by her bedside.
Rosalind Linden heard there had been a violent disturbance at the hospital and that Miles Warren had almost been injured while saving a nurse, so she rushed over immediately.
Through the glass door, she saw the man she longed for standing guard over another woman.
Rosalind Linden froze.
She could see it clearly—that tender, loving gaze was something she had never seen him show in the four years they were classmates abroad.
Inside the room, he was meticulously and gently tucking the blanket around her.
His voice was low, but Rosalind Linden could hear it clearly from the doorway.
"Claire Kendall, it’s been ten years. You always know how to torture me..."
"You did then, and you still do now."