Chapter18 Walking In On Him Showering
Inside the hospital's fire escape stairwell, the light was dim.
This was a blind spot for surveillance cameras, the quietest corner of the entire building.
Clifton had already removed his silver mask, revealing a face so handsome it was almost severe.
His long legs crossed casually as he leaned leisurely against the cold wall. The powerful aura of unapproachability surrounding him was worlds apart from the "Mr. Prescott" he showed in public.
Beside him, an equally stern looking man was using a special lighter to light the cigarette in his hand.
A man in a black jacket silently approached from below the stairs, stopped in front of him with a respectful posture, his voice kept extremely low.
"Captain, we've confirmed the perp visits this hospital's special care ward every seven days. Today is the seventh day."
Hearing this, a cold gleam flashed in Clifton's eyes.
He twirled the unlit cigarette between his fingers, ultimately returning it to his pocket, his voice steady without a trace of emotion.
"Spread the word. We close the net tonight. Everyone to your positions. Remember, don't spook him."
"Yes sir!" The man immediately responded, then asked somewhat hesitantly, "Captain, will you be joining the operation tonight?"
Clifton looked up, his gaze passing through the dusty small window toward the bustling streets outside the hospital.
"I'll go back first." He spoke lightly. "I'll come out on my own tonight. Wait for my signal."
"Understood!"
The man received his orders. His figure flashed and disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell.
That night, at the Prescott estate.
The atmosphere in the dining room was warm and harmonious.
After dinner, Clifton turned his wheelchair, preparing to go upstairs.
"Grandfather, you and Miranda take your time chatting. I still have some work to handle." He stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned back to Miranda. "Don't come up to disturb me before nine thirty."
The words sounded businesslike, carrying a hint of distance.
Hearing this, Clifton's grandfather immediately frowned, tapping his cane with displeasure. "What do you mean disturb? Miranda is your wife, the mistress of this house. How could she be disturbing you! You brat, all you know is work all day!"
Seeing the atmosphere about to become tense, Miranda quickly smiled to smooth things over. She walked to Clifton's grandfather's side and affectionately took his arm.
"Grandfather, don't blame him. He really is busy with work. Besides, I don't want to go look at those boring documents anyway. I'd much rather chat and watch TV with you!"
After saying this, she turned to look at Clifton, showing a gentle, considerate smile. "You handle your work in peace. I promise I won't go up to disturb you."
Her obedient and understanding manner instantly smoothed over the slight displeasure in Clifton's grandfather's heart.
Mr. Prescott looked at her and snorted with feigned dissatisfaction. "You just spoil him!"
Miranda's cheeks took on just the right amount of shyness. She lowered her head, lips curving slightly upward.
Clifton gave her an inscrutable look, emotions unreadable in those deep eyes. Ultimately saying nothing, he turned his wheelchair and went upstairs.
Almost the instant the bedroom door closed, the warmth on his face vanished without a trace.
The next second, he stood directly up from the wheelchair!
His long legs stood steady on the ground, showing no sign whatsoever of disability.
He walked to the dressing room and quickly changed out of his comfortable loungewear, pulling on a black tactical suit that outlined his lean, solid physique perfectly.
Without any hesitation, he opened the window. His agile figure silently melted into the deep night.
At the same time, near the hospital.
Clifton's figure appeared before a group of criminal investigation unit members. The black tactical suit made his entire being radiate a lethal aura.
"Move!"
With one command, several figures scattered like ghosts.
Clifton and his team members worked in tight coordination, clean and efficient. They finally succeeded in pinning that cunning criminal firmly to the ground.
Glancing at the time on his watch, it was already nine twenty.
"Take him back for interrogation. I'm leaving first." Clifton left these words behind, his figure once again disappearing into the night.
At the estate.
Watching the wall clock's hand approaching ten, Clifton's grandfather finally couldn't help but urge her.
"Miranda, it's getting late. Go upstairs and rest."
"Okay, Grandfather."
Only then did Miranda put down the remote control and go upstairs.
The room was quiet. She didn't see Clifton anywhere.
Miranda guessed he might still be in the study handling work. She didn't think much of it.
She yawned. After battling wits at the company today and chatting with Grandfather for so long, she was indeed a bit tired. She prepared to wash up first.
But just as she reached the bathroom door, her steps abruptly halted.
Steam filled the bathroom. A tall, upright figure stood with his back to her.
Clifton was bare chested, only a thin towel loosely wrapped around his waist, revealing smooth lines of a narrow waist and firm glutes.
Water droplets slid down his close cropped hair, passing over his defined collarbones, streaming down his clearly muscled back, then disappearing into his tight, powerful chest, finally vanishing at the edge of that precarious towel.
Miranda felt her heartbeat skip sharply. Her mind went "buzz" and instantly went blank.
Wasn't he disabled in both legs?
Getting closer, Miranda saw the wheelchair behind the door. She thought Clifton must have been supporting himself on the sink counter, which was why he could stand.
The man seemed to sense her gaze. His motion of toweling his hair paused. He slowly sat in the wheelchair, then turned it to face her.
That incomparably handsome face, fresh from bathing, had lost some of its usual coolness and gained a few degrees of bewitching sexiness.
Miranda's breathing completely stopped.
Her gaze uncontrollably fell on the man's body.
Chocolate bar abs clearly defined. Sexy V lines extending downward. A perfectly sculpted male physique.
However, if you looked carefully, you could see that perfect musculature was covered with some very faint old scars, like silent medals, adding a few degrees of wild charm to him.
Just as Miranda was nearly lost in her staring, the man's deep, magnetic voice, carrying a hint of teasing, sounded in the quiet room.
"Mrs. Prescott, after staring at my abs for so long," Clifton's lips curved into a dangerous arc as he moved closer to her, "do you want to touch?"
Miranda's cheeks "whoosh" burst into flames, heat spreading from her face all the way to her ears.
She stared wide eyed at the man so close to her, her heart pounding so hard it almost jumped out of her throat.
There was this kind of perk?
"...Okay, sure!"
Almost the instant the words left her mouth, her hand had already reached out beyond her control. Her body's reaction was faster than her brain's processing.
Clifton's eyes darkened. Looking at those clear eyes filled with curiosity and desire, he was just about to reach out and grab her wayward wrist...
With a creak, the bedroom door was suddenly pushed open from outside.
Clifton's grandfather walked in cheerfully carrying a glass of warm milk. "Clifton, Grandfather brought you..."
His words cut off abruptly.
Mr. Prescott looked at the scene before him of his granddaughter in law reaching out to touch his grandson's abs. He froze completely. He nearly dropped the milk in his hands.
The next second, an "I understand" knowing smile immediately appeared on his face. He quickly turned around, backing out while waving his hands.
"Oh my, I didn't see anything, didn't see anything! You two carry on, carry on! Just pretend Grandfather was never here!"
Bang. The door quickly closed.
The entire room instantly fell into dead silence.
Miranda's hand was still rigidly frozen on Clifton's abdomen.
Under her fingertips was the man's burning skin and iron hard muscle texture. That scalding heat felt like it could burn her fingertips.
Feeling that soft touch on his abdomen, Clifton's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
He looked down, his voice deeper than before.
"Are you going to move your hand or not?"