Chapter32 More Resilient Than He Imagined
She had stolen her husband, stolen the tenderness she once hoped for, and now even her visit to her professor was being twisted into another act of theft.
Harrison looked at Miranda's aggressive manner and found her completely unreasonable. The little remaining sentiment he had was worn away completely.
He spoke more firmly to the bodyguards. "Take her away. I won't let her cause trouble today."
"Harrison, what gives you the right!" Miranda struggled but was no match for two professional bodyguards.
"The fact that you deliberately followed us here today." Harrison looked at her coldly, without a trace of warmth in his eyes.
With their orders, the bodyguards stopped being polite and directly reached out to grab Miranda's arms.
During the struggle, the gift bag in Miranda's hand was torn. With a "smack," it fell to the ground, its contents shattering everywhere.
A complete mess.
Harrison frowned and ordered the bodyguards coldly, "Take her out of the community. Clean this up and don't leave any traces."
"Yes, Mr. Whitmore."
Miranda was held on both sides by the two bodyguards, unable to break free.
She looked back, only to see Ariana nestled beside Harrison, casting her a triumphant, challenging look.
And Harrison never gave her a single extra glance from beginning to end.
Her heart felt blocked by something, with bitterness and humiliation surging to her throat in an instant.
The gifts she had carefully prepared, those items carrying her respect for her professor, were trampled into garbage on the ground.
After being "escorted" out of the community gate, the bodyguards let go and left expressionlessly.
Miranda stood by the roadside, looking at her wrinkled clothes from the struggle, her heart ice cold.
Looking like this today, there was no way she could visit her professor again.
She took a deep breath, suppressed the surging emotions in her heart, hailed a car, and could only come back another day.
Back at the hotel suite, Clifton was sitting on the sofa looking at documents. Hearing the door open, he looked up.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, then at Miranda, asking in a flat tone, "Done with your visit so quickly?"
Miranda gave a vague "mm," concealing her emotions well.
Clifton didn't press further and closed the document in his hand. "The company has something urgent. We need to go back this afternoon."
"Okay." Miranda nodded. The Stellar Plan was still in its initial phase, and she should go back too.
She turned and walked toward the bedroom, beginning to pack her things.
Clifton watched her slightly stiff back, his deep eyes narrowing slightly.
Something was off.
Her mood had been wrong since she entered.
Although she tried hard to hide it, that deliberately suppressed dejection couldn't escape his eyes.
He took out his phone and discreetly sent a message.
[Find out what happened to Miranda at C City University's residential area this morning.]
Putting away his phone, he saw Miranda bending over to pack the laptop and some scattered documents on the table.
He controlled his wheelchair over. "Let me help you."
The moment Clifton was about to close the laptop, he saw a chat message.
Miranda's logged-in account hadn't been closed.
[Professor Zara, hello. I'm Miranda. I'm taking the liberty to disturb you to ask about post-treatment care and rehabilitation therapy for muscle atrophy after lower limb nerve damage. Are there any good methods?]
Clifton's gaze paused on that line for a second.
His heart stirred slightly, and a barely perceptible ripple appeared in those unfathomable eyes.
He closed the laptop and handed it to Miranda.
"Done."
Miranda took the laptop, completely unaware of anything unusual.
After a three-hour drive, the car returned to City A.
Miranda checked the time and said to Clifton, "I'll go directly to the company. There's still a lot to handle for the Stellar Plan."
"Okay."
Watching Miranda's hurried departing figure, Clifton's phone dinged with an email.
He opened it. It contained a detailed record of everything that happened this morning.
[Mrs. Prescott went to visit Professor Zara and happened to run into Harrison and Ariana. Ariana made provocative remarks, and Harrison concluded that Mrs. Prescott deliberately followed them with ulterior motives. Harrison ordered bodyguards to stop her. During the struggle, all of Mrs. Prescott's gifts were shattered on the ground, and she was then forcibly removed from the community by the bodyguards.]
Below the email was a photo captured from surveillance footage.
In the photo, Miranda was held by two large bodyguards, looking particularly small and helpless. On the ground were the scattered, ruined gifts, and in the distance, Harrison was coldly watching it all.
Clifton's eyes grew colder inch by inch.
He made a phone call, his voice extremely cold.
"Arrange for people to give Whitmore Group some trouble."
For an entire week, Miranda threw herself completely into work.
The Stellar Plan entered a critical phase. She worked almost around the clock, spending her days at the company in meetings handling the project, and her nights at home continuing to study the professional materials on nerve therapy that Zara had sent her.
In the bedroom, the night was already deep.
Miranda still sat at her desk, focusing intently on obscure medical papers on the computer screen under the desk lamp's light.
She was exhausted and couldn't help yawning, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
"Click."
A hand with defined knuckles reached over and closed the computer in front of her.
Miranda looked up somewhat surprised, meeting Clifton's deep gaze. "What's wrong?"
"You need to rest." Clifton's voice was low.
"I'm almost done," Miranda rubbed her eyes, pointing at the screen. "I'll sleep after finishing this one."
Clifton looked at the faint dark circles under her eyes, leaned forward, one hand on the desk and the other on Miranda's chair back, completely encircling Miranda in his embrace.
Before Miranda could react, Clifton lifted her onto his lap.
Miranda couldn't break free, her body twisting back and forth.
Suddenly, Clifton beneath her took a heavy breath, and then Miranda felt a smack on her bottom.
"Stop squirming." The man's heavy breathing brushed against Miranda's ear, his voice noticeably huskier.
Miranda was stunned for a moment, looking at Clifton in disbelief. "You, how could you spank me?"
Clifton raised an eyebrow. "You're not listening, so I have to punish you."
The man's words made Miranda feel ashamed. She pushed against Clifton's chest with both hands, trying to get off him.
But somehow she sat on a certain spot, and Clifton suddenly gripped her waist with both hands, preventing her from moving.
Miranda looked at Clifton in surprise. Before she could speak, she heard the man's suppressed voice. "Miranda, are you deliberately teasing me?"
Before Miranda could process what the man said, she felt something hot pressing against her below.
Realizing what it was, her face instantly turned bright red.
"I, I didn't mean to. You're the one who spanked me and won't let me down. I, I..." Miranda explained frantically.
Clifton's eyes grew darker looking at the woman on him. Even her explanations were full of small movements, making his lower body increasingly insistent.
His gaze fell on Miranda's flushed cheeks. Clifton leaned in and lightly bit her collarbone.
This time, Miranda completely stiffened and dared not move anymore.
After a long while, Clifton stood up, his voice husky. "You don't need to exhaust yourself like this for my legs."
Miranda raised an eyebrow and asked back, "How did you know?"
"When I was helping you pack your computer at the hotel earlier, I accidentally saw your chat history with Zara." Clifton explained concisely.
So that's how it was.
Miranda smiled, her expression frank. "On one hand, I do want to see if there's any way to help you. After all, we're 'husband and wife' now. I can't just watch you continue like this."
She paused, a bright light flashing in her eyes.
"But on the other hand," she looked at Clifton, a hint of nostalgia and longing in her tone that she herself hadn't noticed, "it's because my interest in medicine has never faded."
If it weren't for Harrison, she would probably be an excellent surgeon by now.
Clifton quietly watched her.
Under the lamplight, her face no longer showed its usual coldness and distance. The light shining in those eyes was the purest love for a dream.
Clifton suddenly realized that Miranda was more resilient than he had imagined.
He said nothing more. After releasing Miranda, he controlled his wheelchair and went to the balcony.
The night breeze was cool. He made a phone call.
"Hello, it's me." His voice was particularly clear in the night. "Help me contact the international neurosurgery expert Zara. Tell her..."