Chapter102 Clifton's Head Buried in Her Chest
After a full night of hyperbaric oxygen therapy and IV treatment, Miranda’s young body finally began to recover.
Aside from some lingering hoarseness, that dizzy, light-headed feeling had completely vanished.
The doctor checked her repeatedly, confirming nothing was wrong. He wanted her to stay under observation for two more days, but Miranda insisted on discharge paperwork.
Partly because she didn't want her mother to worry, and partly because she really disliked that disinfectant smell in hospitals. It reminded her of that suffocating warehouse.
The next day, changed back into her own clothes, Miranda didn't immediately leave the hospital but took the elevator to the VIP ward.
Pushing open the door, sunlight streamed across the bed.
Arabella was propped up reading. Seeing her daughter enter, her face immediately showed gentle warmth, followed by mild reproach.
"Child, I heard from someone Clifton sent that your company had an emergency meeting last night that went until midnight? You need to take care of yourself. Look at your face, still so pale."
Miranda's heart jumped. She unconsciously touched her cheek, forcing a smile. "Mom, we're at a critical stage of the project. Being busy is normal. How about you, did you sleep well last night?"
She sat by the bed and picked up an apple from the table, peeling it to hide the guilty flash in her eyes.
If Mom knew she'd nearly burned to death in the basement warehouse last night, she'd be terrified.
Arabella sighed, looking at her daughter with concern. "I'm fine. By the way, that nurse yesterday mentioned some imported specialty drug and had you go to the warehouse to sign for it. Did you get it?"
Miranda's apple-peeling hand jerked, the sharp knife nearly cutting her finger.
Specialty drug.
The excuse that had nearly killed her.
She lowered her eyes, long lashes hiding the cold fury beneath, but kept her tone calm. "Got it, Mom. But the doctor said that drug has significant side effects. They need to monitor your indicators more before using it."
"That's good then." Arabella didn't think much of it and nodded.
Miranda handed the peeled apple to her mother, but inside she felt ice-cold.
Last night after Clifton asked about what happened in the basement warehouse, he'd immediately had people investigate that nurse who led the way.
Security footage showed the person wore a mask and hat, completely covered. After locking her in the warehouse and starting the fire, they disappeared through blind spots in the surveillance.
Even more terrifying, checking the entire hospital personnel records revealed no such person existed.
This was a carefully planned murder.
Who could hate her so much they wanted her dead?
"Miranda? What are you thinking about?"
Arabella's voice pulled her back.
Miranda refocused, smiling. "Nothing, just work stuff. Mom, let's eat."
After lunch with her mother, Miranda got up to clear the dishes.
"Alright, stop fussing. Let the caregiver do it." Arabella waved her hand. "Since you're done with work, go home and rest, or check in at the office. You don't need to stay here all day."
"Mom."
"Don't worry about me." Arabella patted her hand, eyes loving. "Your brother came late last night to see me. He stayed quite a while. Plus the caregiver's here. Go on with your work."
Hearing her brother had visited last night, Miranda felt more at ease.
"Okay, I'll go then. I'll come see you tonight."
Leaving the hospital, Miranda didn't go to the office but drove back to Prescott Manor.
She was worried about Clifton's injuries.
Just pushing open the master bedroom door on the second floor, Miranda's steps halted.
Clifton sat on the bed edge, back to the door, upper body bare.
Across his broad back, that expanse of shocking redness and blisters had been treated and medicated, but in the dim light still looked particularly gruesome.
He held a cotton swab and medicine tube, clumsily trying to apply medicine to a hard-to-reach spot on his back.
The movement pulled at his wound. The muscles in his back tensed instantly as he let out an extremely soft grunt.
Miranda's heart felt viciously squeezed, dense pain spreading.
She set her bag casually on the dresser, quickly walked over, and took the cotton swab from his hand.
"Let me do it."
Clifton's movements paused. He turned his head.
Seeing it was her, his normally cold features visibly softened, though his words remained stiff. "Why are you back? Didn't you say you'd stay at the hospital with your mother?"
"I was worried. Came to check on you."
Miranda didn't explain further. She squeezed some ointment onto the cotton swab and applied it extremely gently to the wound on his back.
The cool ointment touching burning skin made Clifton's body tremble slightly.
"Does it hurt?" Miranda's fingers were shaking, her eyes growing hot. "The doctor said it'll take a long time to heal, and there'll be scars..."
This perfect back, ruined because of her.
"I'm a man. A few scars are nothing." Clifton laughed carelessly.
Miranda couldn't say anything more and asked, "The warehouse incident, any leads?"
Mentioning this, Clifton's tone grew heavy.
"That nurse was fake, seems professional. Very clean work, left almost no traces. Still investigating."
Miranda nodded, her expression growing grave.
The medicine was nearly done.
Miranda was about to put away the medical kit when Clifton suddenly frowned, sucking in a sharp breath.
"Sss..."
Miranda startled, nearly dropping the cotton swab. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Where does it hurt?"
She rushed closer, practically pressed against his back, anxiously checking the wounds.
"Here... seems pulled."
Clifton pointed to his side, his voice sounding somewhat weak. But if Miranda had gone around front, she'd have seen the triumphant smirk on his face.
For some reason, seeing this woman so tense made him uncomfortable.
"Let me see if it's inflamed..." Miranda had no defenses, leaning in to check his side.
Just then, Clifton suddenly turned. His long arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her onto the bed in one smooth motion.
"Ah...!"
A moment of spinning disorientation.
Miranda cried out, completely losing her balance, falling solidly into the soft bed.
Before she could react, a burning body pressed down.
Of course, Clifton was careful, arms braced on either side of her, not letting his weight crush her, carefully avoiding his own back injury.
But this position...
Was way too intimate.
Their faces mere inches apart, breath mingling.
Miranda could even see herself reflected in his deep pupils, her own panicked expression.
Worst of all, because of the momentum, Clifton's head had naturally dropped, ending up buried right at her chest.