Chapter175 So He Stood Me Up to Be with Another Woman
Miranda froze for a moment, then put on a polite smile and nodded at Isabella.
"Hello, I'm Miranda."
Her voice was gentle. She assumed this was probably a friend of Celeste's, or some heiress visiting the family.
On the other end of the sofa, Celeste saw Miranda come back and rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out a soft scoff.
She smirked to herself. With Isabella here, there was no way her cousin would choose Miranda over someone as perfect as Isabella.
Just then, there was movement from upstairs.
The study door creaked open from inside.
Miranda looked up instinctively.
Mr. Prescott walked out, leaning on his cane.
Clifton sat in his wheelchair, coming downstairs alongside the old man.
The moment Miranda saw Clifton, her heart skipped a beat, then clenched painfully.
He was home. He hadn't gone on a mission.
Before she could speak, Isabella on the sofa had already turned to greet them.
"Mr. Prescott." Isabella's voice was bright and warm. She walked over quickly and gently steadied the old man's arm.
Mr. Prescott's stern face broke into a wide smile the moment he saw her, looking utterly affectionate.
"Isabella, I've had everything arranged. Your room is on the east side of the second floor. Best lighting in the house. Fresh linens. You're staying for a while this time. Make yourself at home. I won't take no for an answer."
Isabella smiled and nodded without any false modesty. "Then thank you, Grandpa. I won't refuse. I've been wanting to spend more time with you anyway."
As she spoke, her gaze naturally drifted to Clifton in his wheelchair.
The concern in her eyes was completely unconcealed.
"Clifton."
Isabella stepped closer, her eyes soft as they fell on the blanket covering his legs.
"I've been studying nerve regeneration with my mentor abroad. We just had a major breakthrough recently. It could really help with your leg condition. If you have time tonight or tomorrow, I'd like to examine you properly."
Mr. Prescott's eyes lit up at this. "Really? Isabella, that's so thoughtful of you. Clifton's legs have always weighed on my heart. If you can cure him, you'd be a savior to the Prescott family!"
Isabella smiled modestly and shook her head. "Grandpa, please. I'm just grateful I went into medicine so I can help Clifton. It's the least I can do."
Celeste saw her opportunity and deliberately raised her voice.
"When Isabella was abroad, she told me she was always worried about my cousin's legs. That's why she worked so hard studying under her professor. The bond between Isabella and my cousin isn't something just anyone can compare to."
"I remember when we were kids, Isabella even said she was going to marry Clifton."
Miranda stood frozen in place. Every word landed in her ears like a tiny needle.
But Celeste acted like she didn't notice Miranda's expression and kept going. "Back then, we were all playing together as kids. Clifton was always so cold, never paid attention to anyone. Except Isabella. Even I, his own cousin, couldn't compete. I was so jealous."
A blush crept across Isabella's cheeks. She shot Celeste a playful look of reproach, though her voice stayed soft. "Stop making things up. That's only because I was always clinging to Clifton when we were little. He only paid attention to me because I annoyed him into it."
"That's not true!"
Celeste pouted and glanced pointedly at Miranda. "Clifton always treated you differently from everyone else. Look at this afternoon. Clifton pushed aside all his work just to stay home and keep you company. If it were me, would he ever have that kind of patience?"
These words made Miranda unconsciously clench her fingers.
So that's why he didn't pick her up. Why he didn't even reply to her messages. Because he was home keeping Isabella company.
Celeste kept rambling. "Isabella, if you'd finished your studies and come back sooner, maybe you'd be my sister-in-law right now. You and Clifton were always..."
"Enough."
A low, cold voice cut her off.
Clifton's expression darkened. He shot Celeste an icy glare.
"You're getting ridiculous."
Celeste shrank back at his tone, muttering a few words of protest under her breath, but didn't dare continue.
Isabella stepped in to smooth things over.
"She's right, Celeste. That was so long ago. Childhood jokes shouldn't be taken seriously. Let's drop it."
She stood gracefully and turned to Clifton, her eyes holding a hint of apology and understanding. "Clifton, don't be upset. You know how Celeste is. I'll be staying in the country for a while this time for some academic exchanges. I hope it's not too much trouble for you and Grandpa."
Celeste jumped in immediately. "I've been dying for someone to hang out with! Isabella, you can stay as long as you want."
Then she deliberately turned and shot Miranda a provocative look.
The message in her eyes was clear: See? Even if you married Clifton, you're still just an outsider.
Miranda's face showed no reaction. She just managed a stiff smile.
Celeste wasn't done yet. A calculating glint flashed in her eyes as she grabbed Isabella's hand affectionately.
"Isabella, you haven't been back in so long. Let's go shopping tomorrow. I know some new haute couture boutiques. The clothes would be perfect for you."
Then, as if she'd just remembered Miranda existed, she turned with a saccharine smile. "Miranda, why don't you come with us tomorrow?"
Miranda was about to decline, saying she had work.
But Mr. Prescott, who had been silent until now, spoke first. His tone left no room for argument. "Good. Tomorrow you and Miranda take Isabella out shopping. Buy whatever you want. Don't hold back."
Since Mr. Prescott had spoken, Miranda smiled and nodded.
"Of course, Grandpa."
It wasn't until Mr. Prescott grew tired that everyone finally dispersed from the living room.
Miranda walked behind Clifton's wheelchair and gripped the handles. "I'll push you upstairs."
Back in the bedroom, Clifton stood up directly from the wheelchair.
After all, they were alone. He didn't need to worry about his legs being exposed.
Miranda looked at the tall man before her. She wanted to ask about his relationship with Isabella.
But then she thought better of it. What right did she have to ask?
When they signed the agreement, it was written in black and white: they would not interfere in each other's personal lives.
What he wanted was an obedient wife who could satisfy his grandfather. Not a jealous, demanding shrew.
Thinking this, the light in Miranda's eyes dimmed bit by bit.
The words stuck in her throat like a wad of cotton, impossible to swallow or spit out.
"What's wrong?"
Clifton looked at her, his brow furrowed slightly, his voice low. "You've barely said a word since you walked in. You look terrible. Are you feeling sick?"
Miranda took a deep breath. Her voice came out flat, betraying nothing.
"I'm fine. The competition was stressful today, and I had some wine at dinner. Just tired."
She turned, giving him her back.
"I'm going to shower."
Clifton stared at the closed bathroom door and frowned.
He had wanted to ask if his driver had missed her. Why she came home more than half an hour later than expected.
But seeing her disappear into the bathroom, he let it go.