Chapter126 Is He Standing Up for Her?
In the hallway.
Miranda had just escaped from that suffocating private room, taking a deep breath of the cool air.
The stinging pain in her cheek intensified. Now that she'd dropped the strong front she'd maintained in front of those two, exhaustion washed over her instantly.
She raised her hand to touch her face, but worried about the pain, she hissed and lowered it again.
"What happened?"
A low, cold male voice suddenly spoke from ahead.
Miranda jumped, her head snapping up.
At the end of the hallway, Clifton stood there.
His tall, upright figure was clad in a black long coat.
His deep eyes were locked intently on her face, his brow furrowed tightly.
Miranda instinctively turned her face to the side, trying to use her hair to hide the red, swollen half of her face.
"It's nothing. I thought you wouldn't be here for a while?"
Clifton didn't answer, striding toward her with long steps.
As he approached, a powerful, oppressive presence emanated from him.
He reached out, but his movement was unexpectedly gentle as he gripped her chin, forcing her to turn her face toward him.
Under the dim yellow hallway lights, her once-flawless fair cheek was now red and swollen, the clear handprint shockingly visible, with even a bit of broken skin at the corner of her mouth, blood seeping through.
Clifton's pupils contracted sharply, a violent, cold fury surging in his eyes.
"Who did this?"
Those few short words were like the calm before a storm.
Miranda saw the rage in his eyes, and her heart inexplicably skipped a beat.
She gently pulled free from his hand, shrugging with forced casualness.
"It's nothing. Ran into a crazy married couple."
Miranda didn't want to drag him into this. She tugged at his sleeve. "Too many people here. Let's talk somewhere else."
Clifton studied her deeply, didn't press further, and instead took her wrist, leading her into an empty private room nearby.
The door closed, shutting out prying eyes.
"Sit down."
Clifton pressed her into a chair, his tone brooking no argument.
Miranda obediently sat, then briefly recounted what had just happened.
"...I've already decided to contact my lawyers."
She spoke lightly, but after hearing everything, Clifton's expression didn't improve. Instead, it darkened further.
"Thomas?"
The man's thin lips parted, testing the name on his tongue, a bloodthirsty glint flashing in his eyes.
"Yes, him." Miranda sighed helplessly.
"If you can't handle it, or don't want to dirty your hands, you can tell me."
Miranda froze for a moment.
This was the first time Clifton had so solemnly emphasized their relationship.
Though it was a contract marriage, his attitude at this moment inexplicably sent a warm current through her heart, as if something had gently struck her.
"Got it." She lowered her eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting involuntarily. "You're the best. If I can't handle it, I'll definitely ask for your help."
Seeing how utterly carefree she was, Clifton couldn’t help but sigh.
"I'll step out for a moment."
He pulled out his phone and made a call from a corner of the hallway.
"Look into Thomas and his wife Elara. I want all their recent movements, and find that real mistress."
"Also, have someone send over some anti-swelling ointment. Immediately."
After hanging up, Clifton stood by the window, calming his emotions before returning to Miranda's side.
Less than ten minutes later, someone knocked on the door, delivering a tube of ointment.
Clifton took the ointment, squeezed some onto his fingertip, then leaned down slightly.
"Look up."
Miranda instinctively tried to pull back. "I can do it myself..."
"Don't move."
The man cupped the back of her head with one hand while his other hand, carrying the cool ointment, gently pressed against her burning cheek.
His fingertips were warm, the ointment cool.
Two completely different sensations intertwined on her skin.
Miranda was forced to tilt her head back, looking at that handsome face up close.
His eyelashes were long. When lowered, they cast shadows on his eyelids, concealing his usual severity and revealing a rare tenderness.
That careful, protective touch made Miranda's heartbeat involuntarily lose its rhythm.
"Hiss..."
The ointment touched the wound at the corner of her mouth, stinging slightly. She couldn't help but flinch.
Clifton's fingers instantly froze.
"Does it hurt?"
His voice was slightly hoarse, a flash of concern he himself didn't notice crossing his eyes.
"It's okay..." Miranda's voice was small.
"Bear with it."
Clifton lightened his touch, even instinctively blowing gently on the wound.
The warm breath brushed across her cheek, and Miranda's face instantly flushed to her ears.
After treating the wound, they ate something quickly and headed straight back to the Prescott estate.
The car stopped in front of the main building.
Before getting out, Clifton smoothly returned to his custom black wheelchair, the blanket covering his long legs, instantly transforming back into the mobility-impaired eldest son of the Prescott family.
They pushed through the door. The living room was brightly lit.
Celeste sat on the sofa flipping through a fashion magazine. Hearing the movement, she immediately looked up, her trademark sweet smile plastered on her face.
"Clifton, Miranda, you're back?"
She set down the magazine, her gaze sweeping over both of them before settling on Miranda's slightly swollen face.
For a moment, a gleam of schadenfreude flashed in her eyes, but she quickly masked it.
"Oh my, Miranda, what happened? Your face looks a bit red."
"Nothing, just bumped into something." Miranda replied coolly, her attitude extremely cold.
Celeste didn't press further, walking to Clifton's side as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, Clifton, I took Miranda to the equestrian club the other day. Miranda was so lucky."
Clifton's expression remained indifferent, his slender fingers resting on the wheelchair's armrest. "Oh?"
"There was a raffle, and Miranda was selected as the lucky audience member right away. She presented the award to the first-place champion."
Celeste spoke with a smile, but her eyes kept drifting toward Miranda. "That champion was quite handsome too."
At those words, Miranda's gaze snapped to Celeste.
Was she bringing this up in front of Clifton because she thought Miranda wouldn't suspect her involvement in the Thomas and Elara situation?
Clifton didn't look at Celeste, merely giving a flat "Hmm," his face showing no emotional response.
Seeing Clifton's lukewarm reaction, Celeste sneered inwardly. Once Thomas blows this up, I doubt you'll be able to keep Miranda in your good graces.
Celeste added sarcastically, "If Miranda's interested, I'll take you again next time."
"No need."
Miranda cut her off coldly. "I'm tired. I'm going upstairs to rest."
Without even a glance at Celeste, she turned and went upstairs.
Back in the bedroom, Miranda didn't immediately wash up.
She sat at her desk, opened her computer, her expression serious.
Her fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for information about Thomas and Elara's companies, even combing through the equestrian club's forums.
If Celeste was plotting something, there had to be traces.
Unfortunately, online there was only generic news about Thomas's championship wins. Reports about his private life were completely clean.
Miranda frowned, the uneasy feeling in her heart not dissipating.
Unable to find anything, she could only close her computer and head to the bathroom with her pajamas.
Hot water washed over her body, carrying away the day's exhaustion.
When she came out after her shower, drying her hair, she saw that Clifton had returned to the room.
He sat on the edge of the bed reading a book. Hearing the noise, he looked up at her.
"You need to apply the ointment to your face again."
He reached for the tube of ointment on the nightstand.
Miranda walked over and sat down. "I can do it myself. You've had a long day too."
Clifton didn't insist, handing her the ointment.
Watching her apply the medicine in front of the mirror, the man remained silent for a moment before suddenly speaking:
"If you don't like being around Celeste, you can refuse her directly."
Miranda's hand paused, looking through the mirror at the man behind her.
"There's no need to accommodate yourself for my grandfather's sake."
Clifton's voice was calm but carried a reassuring strength. "In this house, if you don't want to do something, no one can force you."
Miranda's heart suddenly jumped.
Was he... standing up for her?
A warm current spread from her heart, dispelling all the unpleasantness and gloom of the evening.
Miranda turned around, looking at Clifton, genuine warmth spreading across her features.
"Alright. I understand." Her voice softened considerably.
Night deepened.
That night, perhaps because of Clifton's words, Miranda slept particularly soundly.
Outside the window, moonlight poured like water, serene and peaceful.
However, online.
A post was quietly climbing its way up the trending list.
Author's Note: Miranda: What terrible luck, running into a crazy couple. Clifton: Wife, get behind me. I specialize in dealing with crazy people.