Chapter195 Miranda’s Resistance
Christian noticed how pale his sister looked. His heart tightened, and he instinctively reached out to check her forehead. "Miranda, what’s wrong? You look terrible."
The sound of his voice snapped her back to reality. By then, his hand was already resting on her skin.
She gently pushed his hand away and forced a small smile, shaking her head. "I’m fine, Christian. I just didn't sleep well last night. I'm a little tired."
Christian felt a pang of guilt. He knew she must have stayed by his side all night. How could anyone get good rest sleeping on the edge of a hospital bed?
"Silly girl," he sighed, his voice filled with weak affection. "There’s a cot right there. Go get some sleep. I just woke up, so I’m not tired, and I don't need anything right now."
Miranda started to respond, but her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She pulled it out and saw the name "Grandfather" flashing on the screen. Her heart sank even further.
"Rest for a bit, Christian. I need to take this," she said, turning quickly to walk out of the room.
In the hallway, Miranda leaned against the cold wall and took a deep breath before answering.
"Hello, Grandfather."
Prescott’s voice came through immediately—authoritative, heavy, and clearly annoyed. "You didn't come home last night. Where are you?"
It wasn't a question; it was an interrogation.
Miranda gripped her phone until her knuckles turned white. "I’m sorry, Grandfather," she said, her voice raspy with exhaustion. "My brother was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital with him."
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
Prescott had assumed she was staying out late to rebel. Hearing the explanation, his anger cooled slightly.
"Which hospital?" he asked. His tone was still commanding, but less harsh. "I’ll arrange a transfer to the Prescott private clinic. I’ll get the best doctors and four professional nurses. It’s not appropriate for a woman to be handling a patient's care alone."
Miranda was stunned.
The Prescott private hospital was world-class, the kind of place even the elite struggled to get into. If Christian went there, his leg would have the best chance of recovery.
"Thank you, Grandfather," she said, her throat feeling dry. "We are at City Central, Room 408."
"Understood."
Prescott hung up without another word.
Listening to the dial tone, Miranda felt a sense of guilt. She knew she was taking advantage of the Prescott family’s power again. But for the sake of her brother’s legs, she couldn't refuse.
---
By that afternoon, the transfer was handled with incredible efficiency.
Christian was moved to the top-tier Prescott private hospital. The suite looked more like a five-star hotel than a ward—quiet, comfortable, and filled with cutting-edge equipment.
Once the nurses took over, Miranda finally felt a moment of relief. She stepped out to speak with the doctor about the long-term recovery plan. When the specialist confirmed Christian’s leg could heal completely, she finally let out a long breath.
But as she walked back toward the room, she froze.
Through the glass window of the door, she saw a familiar back.
A man sat in a wheelchair. Even from behind, his natural aura of power and elegance was unmistakable.
It was Clifton.
Miranda’s breath hitched. The conversation she had overheard in the hallway yesterday echoed in her mind like a curse.
"It wasn't an accident!"
"He had a conflict with the Prescott heir..."
Her hands and feet went cold. It felt like a hand was squeezing her heart, making it hard to breathe. The truth was still a blur, and she didn't know how to face him. She couldn't just ignore the possibility that he was involved in her brother’s injury.
Hearing someone at the door, Clifton turned his wheelchair around.
Seeing her, he moved toward the door to open it. "Don't worry," he said calmly. "I’ve already contacted the best orthopedic specialists. They’re flying in tomorrow. A nutrition team is also working on a recovery plan."
Miranda struggled to find her voice. "Thank you," she managed to whisper.
Christian, who looked a bit better now, saw how exhausted his sister was. "Miranda, go home with Clifton. I have the nurses here to look after me. I'll be fine."
Miranda hesitated. She knew Prescott was already unhappy with her. If she stayed out another night, it would only cause more trouble.
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
---
An hour later, they were in the back of the car.
The interior was spacious, yet the atmosphere felt suffocating. Miranda pressed herself against the window, leaving enough space between her and Clifton for another person to sit.
Clifton looked at her. Her eyes were downcast, and her long lashes cast shadows on her face. She looked beautiful but distant. The gap between them bothered him, sparking a flicker of annoyance.
"Sit closer," he said. "You're going to hit your head on the glass."
Miranda didn't move. It was as if she hadn't heard him.
Clifton frowned. He reached out, intending to stroke her hair and calm her down.
But before his fingers could touch her, Miranda flinched violently, slamming her shoulder against the window.
"What are you doing?" she snapped, her voice trembling with fear she couldn't hide.
Clifton’s hand froze in mid-air. His expression darkened. "What is wrong with you? Are you sick?"
"No," she said shortly. She turned her head away, staring at the blurred scenery outside, refusing to say another word.
Clifton watched her, the sense of unease growing stronger. But since she wouldn't speak, he didn't push.
In the front seat, the driver caught the entire exchange in the rearview mirror.
Meanwhile, at the top of the Whitmore Group building.
Harrison was working through a mountain of paperwork when his office door burst open.
"Sir!" his assistant gasped, sounding panicked. "Mr. Lancaster is here! He didn't have an appointment, he just forced his way in!"
Before the assistant could finish, a furious figure stormed into the room.
It was Dominic.
Harrison’s face clouded with annoyance, but he quickly masked it. He waved the assistant away. "Leave us."
The assistant nodded and hurried out, closing the door.
Harrison and Dominic were left alone in the silent office.