Chapter17 Regrets?
Miranda and Lisa's figures completely disappeared at the end of the hallway before Harrison slowly came back to himself. That hollow feeling in his chest grew more and more turbulent.
...
Evening.
After finishing the last document at hand, Miranda walked out of the company building rubbing her tired temples. Though she'd gained a lot today, the mental exhaustion far exceeded the physical.
She'd just reached the entrance when a gentle, familiar voice called out to her.
"Miranda."
Miranda looked up to see Arabella standing under a sycamore tree, looking at her with heartache in her eyes. She wore an elegant simple dress, her manner gentle, but worry lingered between her brows.
"Mom, what are you doing here?" Miranda quickly walked over.
"If I didn't come, were you really going to gamble away all your shares?" Arabella grabbed her daughter's hand, her tone full of undisguised fear. "Your brother told me. How could you be so foolish? Betting your own shares against someone like Ariana? What if you'd lost? Those are your security for the future!"
Seeing her mother's reddened eyes from worry, Miranda felt warmth in her heart. She grasped her hand in return and smiled reassuringly. "Mom, don't worry. I'm not foolish. I only said that because I was completely confident. I knew they'd fall into the trap I set."
She paused, her tone becoming more obedient. "But you're right. I'll be more careful from now on. I won't joke around with things like this anymore. Don't be angry."
Seeing her daughter look so confident yet well behaved, Arabella's anger dissipated considerably, leaving only deep heartache.
She raised her hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's ear, her gaze loving yet helpless. "You've really grown up. And you've suffered."
Miranda's nose tingled. She smiled and shook her head. "I haven't suffered."
She thought to herself that she really hadn't been home in several days. Perfect timing to go back today and spend some quality time with her mother.
"Mom, let's go home."
"Okay."
But they'd barely taken a few steps from the company entrance when Arabella's steps suddenly halted. One hand instinctively pressed against her chest, and her face instantly paled.
Miranda's heart jumped to her throat. "Mom! What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"
"It's nothing, nothing." Arabella forced out a smile and waved her hand. "Just got upset by all those terrible things your father did today. I'll be fine after resting a bit."
"No!" Miranda's expression turned unprecedentedly serious. She firmly supported her mother's arm, brooking no argument. "Your body needs to be checked!"
With that, she immediately called to schedule an appointment with the most authoritative doctor.
Under Miranda's insistence, Arabella ultimately went to the hospital.
At the hospital, the smell of disinfectant and hurried footsteps filled the air.
Arabella was led by nurses to get an EKG and other tests. Miranda used this gap to follow the attending physician to the office to pay fees and learn details about her mother's condition.
"Doctor, my mother..."
"Don't worry, Miranda," the elderly doctor said, looking at the report in hand and explaining gently.
"Your mother has a good constitution. No major problems. It's just that with age, her heart's capacity isn't what it used to be. The biggest taboo is major emotional fluctuations."
"Today was probably just a moment of acute stress that made her feel chest tightness and shortness of breath. Just be careful going forward. Keep her mood pleasant and there shouldn't be major issues."
Hearing this, Miranda's suspended heart finally settled heavily back into place.
"Thank you, doctor. I understand."
Coming out of the doctor's office, Miranda let out a long breath, preparing to find her mother who'd just finished testing.
But the moment she turned around, her steps abruptly halted.
At a corner in the hallway not far away, Harrison was carefully supporting Ariana, his head lowered, saying something in soft tones.
Ariana leaned against him weakly, her face pale, looking pitifully like she'd suffered a great injustice.
That scene stabbed at Miranda's eyes.
Almost instantly, she remembered that afternoon lying on a cold hospital bed after her miscarriage.
The tearing pain in her lower abdomen hadn't completely faded. She'd lost their first child.
She'd been so desperate, so helpless. But Harrison's eyes had only held Ariana.
Looking at that "deeply affectionate" couple ahead, that familiar bitter ache surged up in Miranda's chest again. But it lasted only a moment before being rapidly replaced by a relieved sense of gratitude.
How wonderful.
Thank goodness she was already divorced. Already jumped out of that fire pit.
"Regrets?"
A cool, deep voice suddenly sounded without warning beside her ear.
Miranda was startled, spinning around sharply, her heart skipping a beat.
Clifton had appeared behind her at some point. He sat in his wheelchair holding a medical report, clearly also at the hospital for a checkup.
He wore that signature silver mask, revealing only a pair of unfathomably deep black eyes that stared at her unblinkingly.
"No, no!" Miranda quickly shook her head, as if afraid he'd misunderstand, hurriedly explaining. "I stopped liking him a long time ago."
She wasn't lying.
Back on that day when he'd turned away for Ariana's sake, leaving her alone in the hospital room, her ridiculous love for him had already died completely along with their unborn child.
"I just felt a bit emotional seeing that scene just now." She added.
Clifton Prescott's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds, as if judging the truth of her words.
After a moment, he lightly looked away. "Good."
He turned his wheelchair and passed by her, his voice flat but carrying an undeniable warning tone.
"Remember your identity now. Don't cause any embarrassment for the Prescott family."
"I understand." Miranda nodded, watching his back. "If there's nothing else, I'll go find my mother now."
She'd just prepared to turn when Clifton Prescott's voice came again.
"Grandfather called. He wants you to stay at the estate tonight."
Miranda froze, about to respond, but saw the man had already skillfully turned his wheelchair and glided toward the elevator, his back clearly not giving her any chance to refuse.
However, Miranda hadn't thought of refusing anyway.
She wouldn't forget about the hundred million she'd received from the Prescott family.
As an exchange, cooperating with him to play the role of Mrs. Prescott and keeping his grandfather happy, these were all things she should do.
Most importantly, she'd just confirmed with the doctor that her mother's health was fine.
So she felt at ease going to the Prescott estate.