Chapter 7
Chapter 7
288 Vouchers
He tightened his grip on the glass, curving his lips into a confident smile.
Timothy added, “I’m still so impressed with Ms. R’s floral aroma therapy. It destroys cancer cells by in- tegrating biologics with gene-editing technology. How ground-breaking!”
Everyone discussed excitedly, imagining the revolutionary changes brought by Ms. R’s comeback. The atmosphere instantly reached its peak.
Just then, someone pushed open the room door.
A waitress carefully walked inside with a tray to refill their glasses.
At the sight of the three rich heirs, she was so nervous that she stumbled, her body leaning forward un- controllably.
The glasses on her tray clattered to the floor.
The crisp sound of shattering glass ripped through the din at once.
Maryanne, who was the closest to the waitress, didn’t have time to react at all.
She let out a scream.
Johnny reacted quickly, pulling her into his arms almost at the same time the glasses shattered.
Though her face was shielded, the shards of glass carved two bloody scratches into the back of her fair hand.
He frowned, his expression darkening the second he saw blood oozing out.
“Damn it!”
He looked over at the pale-faced waitress, who froze in terror, his gaze glacial.
Then he spat, his tone terrifyingly cold, “Get out.”
The waitress shivered and fled out at once,
“John… My hand… It hurts…”
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Leaning against his arms, Maryanne sobbed, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t be afraid. I’ll take you to the hospital now,” he said, his tone softening.
Then he carried her out, carefully avoiding her wounds, and then strode out.
In the hospital.
The acrid smell of disinfectant filled the air, and the hallway was so quiet that footsteps echoed.
Johnny watched as the doctor meticulously treated and bandaged Maryanne’s wounds.
11 288 Nouchers
Maryanne’s face was still pale, giving her a pitiable appearance. He comforted her in a soothing voice, urging her to get some rest.
Then he stepped out. As he reached a corner, his peripheral glance inadvertently caught a ward with a door slightly open.
A familiar figure came into his view.
He stopped in his tracks at once, fixing his gaze on the pale, frail woman in bed.
She lay motionless in bed, her eyes casting shadows on her long lashes. Her slender arm was connected to an IV line, its transparent liquid dripping slowly into her vein.
Roxanne?
What was she doing here? Was she sick?
A peculiar feeling stirred within him, gripping his heart like an invisible hand.
He pushed open the door and walked inside.
Roxanne lay in bed quietly.
Under the glaring white light, she seemed even gaunter, her once-radiant face now ghastly pale. A nee- dle taped to her slender wrist, slowly feeding transparent fluid into her vein.
As Johnny looked at her, he suddenly felt his chest tighten.
Perhaps her stomach problem was acting up again.
It was an old ailment of hers, one for which she had even been hospitalized.
Back then…
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Chapter 7
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He shook his head, as if to shake those memories out of his head, and then fixed his gaze on her pale lips.
She seemed to be in a fitful sleep, frowning slightly.
Just then, she moved unconsciously, and the blanket slipped down a little.
Almost instinctively, he stepped forward and gently pulled it up to cover her exposed shoulder.
As his fingertips brushed against her skin inadvertently, he was surprised by how cold it was.
His body stiffened for a second before he quickly withdrew his hand as if burned.
Only then did he realize what he had done.
A wave of irritation surged through him.
He then looked around, frowning at the cramped, standard ward, the pungent smell of disinfectant in the air, the low floor level, and the noisy sounds from outside.
How could she possibly recover in such an environment?
He immediately pulled out his phone and called his assistant.
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