Chapter 106 Mike Has Gone Crazy
Sloane's POV
Sure enough, the next second, he threw the neatly folded shirt in his hand back into the suitcase, strode over to me with his long legs, the dark aura emanating from him almost suffocating me.
"No." He looked down at me, his tone an unquestionable command. "I won't allow it."
I was stunned by his sudden domineering attitude, then snapped back to reality. Looking at his handsome face written all over with "I'm unhappy," I suddenly found it a bit amusing.
I didn't say anything, just reached out and gently poked his tense chest, tilted my face up, and deliberately asked slowly, "What, has our Mr. Montclair's jealousy jar tipped over again?"
He choked on my teasing remark, his expression growing even darker.
He grabbed my mischievous hand with frightening force, those unfathomably deep eyes churning with possessive obsession. Word by word, through gritted teeth, he said, "Don't you dare smile at me like that, Sloane. Let me tell you, except for me, there isn't a single decent man in this world."
His sweeping generalization was so broad and ridiculous that I finally couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"You're still laughing?" Seeing me like this made him even more furious. His grip on my wrist tightened, his tone full of anger and a hint of grievance he himself hadn't even noticed. "I understand how they look at you. Every single one of them wants to covet you, to take advantage of you, and you don't know anything!"
Watching him act like everyone was a threat, desperate to tuck me into his pocket and hide me away, the displeasure I'd felt at his domineering behavior instantly vanished, replaced by warmth.
I stopped smiling and held his burning hot hand in return, explaining seriously, "Jared, what are you thinking? Professor Brandon is a world-renowned neurosurgeon, older than my father, a textbook-level figure. Having him accept me as his student is a blessing I earned over several lifetimes."
Hearing this, Jared's furrowed brows didn't immediately relax, but the hostility and wariness in his eyes faded somewhat.
He'd obviously heard of Professor Brandon's reputation and knew he was a highly respected authority figure in the academic world.
He fell silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he reluctantly gave in, though his tone was still sour, "Still not okay. From now on, when you see him, I have to be there."
I was almost exasperated enough to laugh.
"Jared Montclair," I pulled my hand free and cupped his stunningly handsome yet stubbornly sulky face, making him look into my eyes. My tone was more serious than ever before. "Can you be reasonable? He's my teacher, my career. I don't want to spend my whole life hiding behind you, being kept like a caged canary who knows nothing."
He looked at me, complex emotions churning in his eyes—unwillingness, struggle, and a trace of embarrassment at being called out.
I softened my tone, my fingertips gently stroking the stubble on his chin, my voice carrying a hint of pleading I hadn't even noticed myself, "I want to shine in my field. I want everyone to see my value, not just see me as your accessory. I want your father, and all those people who once looked down on me, to know that you didn't choose the wrong person."
That last sentence was like a fine needle, hitting him right in the heart.
His arms around me suddenly stiffened, and all the struggle and unwillingness in his eyes finally transformed into deep, sighing compromise.
He didn't say anything more, just pulled me tighter into his embrace, his chin resting on top of my head, gently nuzzling.
On the way back, Jared didn't choose to fly. Instead, he pulled strings to get a specially modified medical RV. The interior was spacious and fully equipped, even with a comfortable large bed.
The exhaustion from the past few days and the emotional roller coaster made me fall asleep almost as soon as I touched the bed.
In my drowsy sleep, I seemed to hear Jared on the phone.
His voice was very low, yet carried an icy coldness, completely different from the gentle indulgence he usually showed me.
I rolled over, my eyelids too heavy to open, only mumbling vaguely, "Who is it..."
The call seemed to end quickly.
A warm large hand touched my forehead, brushing away the sweat-dampened hair from my face.
"It's nothing, just a work call." His deep voice sounded by my ear, carrying a calming power. "Did I wake you? Go back to sleep."
Soothed by him, my consciousness began to drift again, but the unease caused by his cold tone lingered. I forced my eyes open a crack, looking at his unclear profile in the darkness, insistently asking, "What... happened?"
He was silent for a moment, as if hesitating whether to tell me.
After a long while, I heard him let out an almost inaudible sigh.
He pulled me into his arms, using a deliberately calm tone to state an unsettling fact.
"It's news from the police." He paused, his voice dropping, "That man named Mike went crazy in prison."
My heart sank, all sleepiness gone.
"He started showing severe self-harm behavior, babbling incoherently, mentally confused." Jared's voice was emotionless, yet it sent a bone-deep chill through me. "The police gave a vague explanation, just saying it was sudden-onset mental disorder. The trail ends there."
The trail just ends there.
These words, like poisoned ice, instantly pierced my skin, triggering a shudder. A living person just goes crazy like that—I absolutely wouldn't believe there wasn't someone behind it.
This was clearly someone silencing him, in an even crueler way.
I gripped the bedsheet beneath me, my knuckles white from the force.
Jared noticed my stiffness and held me tighter, his warm chest against my back, transmitting reassuring warmth. He lowered his head and placed a comforting kiss by my ear.
The medical RV stopped at the manor entrance.
Jared carried me down from the vehicle and all the way back to the bedroom.
He took off my shoes, tucked me in, his movements as gentle as if handling a priceless treasure. After finishing, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, then turned to leave.
That resolute back looked exactly like when he left last night.
"Where are you going?" My heart tightened, and almost instinctively, I grabbed the corner of his clothes.
He paused, turned back, his handsome face having shed all warmth, replaced by—
The trail just ends there.
I felt a chill rise from my spine, like a cold poisonous snake coiling around my heart.