When Charles Foote walked into the hospital room, he saw Durrell Landon actually tearing the bandage off his forehead. Julian Haworth couldn't stop him no matter what.
As soon as Julian saw Charles come in, it was like seeing a savior.
"Knight, hurry up and help talk some sense into Durrell. He just had surgery yesterday and now wants to get discharged today—has he lost his mind?"
Charles raised his brows. "Going back isn't a bad idea. At least he won't get bothered by random people."
Julian: "..."
Among this bunch of lunatic weirdos, he was the only normal one. Suddenly, he felt his own situation was rather dangerous.
In the end, he resigned himself and personally drove him back.
The car had genuine leather cushions and almost no vibration could be felt.
Julian drove extremely slowly; even the bicycles nearby could give them a run for their money.
Durrell Landon lounged against the seat, rubbing his fingers constantly, eyelids relaxed and half-lowered.
After a while, Durrell suddenly opened his eyes and stared tightly at Julian, his whole aura inexplicably dark and biting. "Are you trying to race a snail?"
Julian: "..."
Ever since Durrell woke up, Julian felt that there was something a little off about him.
Even if he didn't remember Quiana Sutton, he shouldn't be giving everyone around him the cold-shoulder, keep-your-distance attitude.
For some reason, he unexpectedly thought back to when Durrell was first brought to the Landon Family, and now he seemed a little bit like that again.
But rumor had it those early memories had long been hypnotized away—there's no way Durrell could recall them.
He asked with a complicated look on his face:
"Durrell, where do you want to go?"
"Imperial View Manor."
...
Imperial View Manor.
Water everywhere, the soft trickle of streams—under the silent night, it was anything but relaxing.
Julian shrank his neck. If only Zeke Landon weren't here, life would be better.
Zeke Landon was the CEO of Universal Corporation, Durrell's eldest brother, and an extremely shrewd man. Every time Julian saw Zeke, his scalp went numb.
Durrell got out of the car, walking step by step to Zeke and, in an innately cool voice, called out, "Big Brother."
Zeke narrowed his eyes and looked Durrell over up and down. "I heard you were in a car accident?"
Durrell: "Yes."
Zeke: "I've asked Oliver Gale to come over. He'll check you out in a while."
Durrell didn't refuse.
When Durrell went inside, Julian wisely chose not to follow.
He forced a polite smile and said to Zeke, "Big Brother Zeke, he's home now, so I'll take my leave."
Zeke glanced at them briefly and nodded. "Thanks for your trouble."
With that, he too went inside.
Charles looked at Julian's eager-to-leave face and couldn't help feeling speechless:
"What are you worried about? With Oliver here, as long as you've got a breath left, he'll save you."
Julian shot Charles a look, full of disdain. "Me, worried? I think you're the problem—your ability to keep things under wraps is getting worse. It's only been a day and the Landon Family found out already."
Charles snorted lightly. Even if he had the skills of a god, there was no way to conceal anything from the Landon Family's information network for long.
"Okay, let's go."
Oliver Gale checked Durrell's condition; the results were similar to those of the attending doctor at Riventon Hospital.
After surgery, the body was generally fine—just a lingering shadow on the brain, which might mean some memory loss.
Likewise, if this shadow eventually vanished, he might also remember certain things.
At the mention of Durrell possibly regaining his memory, Zeke's face immediately changed. Even under soft light he looked gloomier than ever.
"Are you saying, if this shadow disappears, the memories we hypnotized out of him might come back?"
Oliver hesitated for a moment but told the truth: "Yes."
"I absolutely won't allow him to remember those filthy things."
Oliver looked very hesitant:
"But if that shadow remains, it might endanger his life."
If his memories return, he might completely break down; but if the shadow stays, he might die…
For the first time, Zeke was this conflicted.
"You stay at Imperial View Manor and look after him. Tell me immediately if anything comes up."
Oliver replied, "Yes."
The room was utterly silent.
Durrell lounged on the sofa, right hand resting loosely on the armrest, letting warm lamplight carve his face.
Strikingly handsome features, a languid, magnetic presence.
He lifted his eyelids and spotted a locked box on the cabinet not far away.
After a moment,
he got up and opened the box.
Inside, surprisingly, lay two marriage certificates.
He flipped through them, and that confirmed it—the woman who'd come looking for him at the hospital today really was his wife.
He might not remember why they got married, but since she'd boarded his pirate ship, getting off wouldn't be so easy.
After looking them over, he put them back.
At that moment, his phone buzzed with a text from Evelyn Windsor—
[Durrell, I'm flying in tomorrow. Can you pick me up?]
He glanced at it indifferently, ignored it, and tossed his phone aside.
Abroad, Evelyn waited a long time for any reply from Durrell, but nothing came, growing more uneasy with every passing minute.
Once, she'd sworn that no matter how long she stayed away, Durrell would always wait for her. Now, she wasn't so sure.
She couldn't wait to see him again.
Meanwhile—
When Quiana Sutton reached Isabelle Somerville's place, she was gaming with Axius Somerville.
Seeing Quiana at the door, Isabelle was more delighted than surprised.
"Cece, what brings you here?"
Quiana shrugged. "Homeless, will you take me in or not?"
Isabelle pulled her inside. "Are you kidding? I'd be honored."
Once inside, she booted Axius, who was gaming on the sofa, onto the floor with her foot. "Don't get in the way. Save the seat for Cece."
Axius yelped, climbing up with wounded pride.
"Joy, people who don't know would think Quiana's your real sister."
As Isabelle's actual brother, Axius honestly felt that, in Joy's heart, his position was still below their pet dog.
Isabelle snorted. "You ought to thank Cece for where you are now. If she hadn't written all those songs for you, would you really have become a new-gen idol?"
Axius hurriedly agreed, "Yes, yes, yes, as long as you don't kick me in the face."
He'd a teardrop-shaped mole at the corner of his eye. On most men, it would be effeminate, but on him it only deepened his mesmerizing appeal.
He knew very well—without that face, no matter how good his singing was, he wouldn't have made it.
Quiana walked out to the balcony and stroked the pure white, not-a-hint-of-color dog.