"That blond thug is lying in the next room," June Underwood said. "The police already questioned him. He said he was paid to cripple your legs. Have you had a conflict with anyone recently?"
Isla Prescott's thoughts immediately went to her roommate, Violet Keith.
She told June Underwood about her conflict with Violet Keith. After hearing the story, June was furious. "Our club has been operating honestly and cleanly for so many years. If there were really any problems, they would have been exposed long ago. Who does she think she is, starting rumors like that! Isabelle, don't you worry. I'll pass this lead on to the police, and I'll report this to President Dawson when I get back."
"Supervisor Underwood, I wasn't asking you to report this to President Dawson."
"I understand. In any case, just focus on getting better. We'll make sure you get justice! Oh, right. I just checked the information form you filled out when you started, and I called your emergency contact. He's on his way."
The moment June Underwood finished speaking, a tall, slender figure rushed through the doorway.
"Isabelle!"
It was Silas Lockwood.
When Isla Prescott first started her part-time job at The Lanthian Club, she and Silas Lockwood weren't officially dating yet. But at the time, he was the person she trusted most in the Lockwood Family, so she had put his number down in the emergency contact field.
Silas Lockwood walked to the side of the bed, his brows furrowed as he looked at Isla Prescott. He instinctively reached out to caress her cheek, but his hand froze in mid-air when he met her indifferent gaze.
It was as if he suddenly remembered they had already broken up.
"Are you okay, Isabelle?" Silas Lockwood asked.
"I'm okay."
"What on earth happened?"
June Underwood described the incident again. Only then did Silas Lockwood notice Shane Sterling sitting by the bed. When he'd first entered, he'd only had eyes for Isla Prescott.
"Sean, thank you for saving Isabelle."
Shane Sterling smiled. "There's an order to things. The person involved hasn't even thanked me yet, and here you are, thanking me first. Cutting in line isn't very polite, you know."
Even with the ringing in her ears, Isla Prescott could tell Shane Sterling was pointing a finger at her.
'He's right. How rude of me. He did me such a huge favor, and I haven't even thanked him since I woke up.'
"Sean, thank you. When I'm better, I'll treat you to dinner."
Isla Prescott was sincerely grateful to Shane Sterling. If it weren't for him, she might be lying in this hospital bed having lost both her legs and her future as a dancer.
"Being happy to help others is a traditional virtue. You don't have to be so formal." He paused briefly before adding, "But since you're so sincere about treating me to dinner, I won't refuse. We'll set a time after you're discharged."
His words made Isla Prescott laugh, and the smile brought a bit of life back to her pale face.
Silas Lockwood watched her, a complex emotion rising and falling in his eyes.
"Supervisor Underwood, Sean, thank you for today. I've taken up too much of your time. You can leave Isabelle to me. You two should go home and rest."
From the sound of it, Silas Lockwood intended to stay and take care of her.
Isla Prescott felt a wave of resistance. If they had never dated, or if they hadn't broken up, it would be fine for Silas Lockwood to stay. But now, they were exes in that awkward post-breakup phase, and she didn't have the mental fortitude to spend the night alone in a hospital room with her soon-to-be-engaged ex-boyfriend.
"Silas, it's getting late. You should go home and rest too," Isla Prescott said, then looked at Shane Sterling. "I already asked Sean to hire a caregiver for me. They should be here any minute." She looked at Shane, hoping he would see his 'traditional virtue' through to the end and help her out one more time.
Shane Sterling crossed his arms and looked back at her, the picture of leisurely nonchalance. His eyes seemed to say, 'I don't just conspire with anyone.'
Isla Prescott shot him an almost pleading look. "Sean, the caregiver should be here soon, right?"
He finally took pity on her, glancing at his watch. "About fifteen more minutes."
Silas Lockwood said, "Then I'll wait here until the caregiver arrives."
"There's no need. I'd like to get some quiet sleep."
Silas Lockwood looked like he was about to say something else, but his phone suddenly rang. It was the middle of the night, so it definitely wasn't a work call. Who was calling was self-evident.
"Silas, you should go," Isla Prescott said, seizing the opportunity.
Silas Lockwood glanced at his phone. It was Lydia Sinclair.
Today was Lydia Sinclair's birthday. She had invited Silas Lockwood and many other friends to a bonfire party on the beach to celebrate. When June Underwood called, Lydia had been just about to blow out her candles and make a wish. The moment Silas heard Isla Prescott was in trouble, he had rushed straight to the hospital without waiting for the party to finish... Lydia was undoubtedly calling now to demand an explanation.
Silas Lockwood didn't answer.
Lydia Sinclair hung up. Less than a minute later, his mother, Yvette Shaw, began calling him again and again.
Silas Lockwood silenced his phone, but he knew he had to go back.
"Alright then. Isabelle, you get some sleep. Call me if you need anything."
"Okay."
The three of them left the room together. The ward suddenly fell quiet, and the ROARING in Isla Prescott's ears seemed to grow louder. At least the dizziness had faded, though.
She closed her eyes, trying to sleep for a while, but she just couldn't drift off.
Lying alone in an unfamiliar place, she couldn't help but feel a little unsafe.
About ten minutes later, she heard footsteps in the room. Isla Prescott assumed it was a nurse doing rounds and opened her eyes, only to see Shane Sterling, who had returned.
He was back, carrying a fruit basket in his left hand and a bouquet of flowers in his right.