Chapter52 No Recovery for the Footage
"You silly girl!" Arabella's eyes immediately filled with tears. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. "How could you gamble away your whole life for money?"
"Mom, it's not like that!" Seeing her mother cry, Miranda grew anxious and quickly explained, "Clifton is really a good man! Seriously! He's much more of a gentleman than Harrison and he treats me... very well. He actually saved me last night!"
Miranda briefly described the events of the previous night.
"Wait, Mom, how did you two know I was here?"
Arabella wiped a tear. "A friend of mine works at the hospital. They said they saw you, so I rushed over with your brother!"
Miranda held her mother's hand, comforting her: "Mom, Christian, please relax. I'm genuinely okay. He hasn't mistreated me. You don't have to worry."
A short while later, the door reopened. Clifton wheeled back in, holding two takeout containers—he had clearly just stepped out to buy them.
Arabella and Christian had naturally heard the news about Prescott's golden boy being in a car accident that left him disabled. Seeing him in person, and observing that their daughter, though weak, didn't seem to be under duress, they finally calmed down a bit, though a faint sense of distress remained.
Arabella stood up and looked at Clifton, her voice much softer. "Clifton, thank you for saving my daughter."
She took a deep breath. "Since you two are married, we, as her parents, will respect Miranda's choice."
Clifton's dark eyes subtly glanced at Miranda. She only mentioned the marriage, not the agreement?
His expression remained neutral as he looked at Arabella and Christian, offering a steady assurance: "Ms. Lancaster, Mr. Lancaster, please don't worry. I've hired a professional nutritionist and will take excellent care of Miranda's health."
Arabella looked at Clifton, who was thoughtful and considerate and always put his daughter first. He was indeed a thousand times better than Harrison, who always placed his work and Ariana above everything else.
Her unhappiness subsided a little.
After Clifton left, Miranda held her mother and brother's hands and quietly instructed: "Mom, Christian, please don't tell Dad about my marriage."
Arabella and Christian readily agreed.
That evening, Arabella, still uneasy, stayed behind to look after Miranda. She remained at the hospital for seven straight days. Watching her daughter's color return day by day, she finally felt a weight lift from her heart.
Clifton also showed up every day, without fail. He was a man of few words, often just sitting by the window handling work, but his deep eyes would constantly drift toward Miranda.
Arabella noticed this, and the worry caused by her daughter's sudden marriage was gradually soothed by the man's calm and dependable presence.
"Mom, I'm really fine now. See, I can get out of bed and walk around no problem." In the room, Miranda walked a couple of laps holding the bed rail to show she had recovered well.
Arabella was still concerned: "I'll stay with you for a few more days."
"If you don't go home soon, Dad will start getting suspicious," Miranda said, hitting Arabella's soft spot.
Arabella sighed and finally gave in.
As soon as her mother left, the room instantly felt empty. The relaxed look on Miranda's face vanished, and she immediately called Lisa.
"What's the situation? Any movement from those two?"
Lisa's voice on the other end held a hint of helplessness: "They've been totally normal lately, working hard. I haven't seen anything unusual."
Miranda's perfect brows furrowed instantly. "Keep watching them," she said, her voice turning colder. "I've rewritten a new project proposal and sent it to you via encrypted email. Find the safest place to save it, and don't let anyone know about it."
"Understood!" Lisa quickly agreed, then couldn't help but ask, "Miranda, did you get any results from the recovered footage?"
"The technician said the person was a pro; it was deleted too cleanly. The chances of recovery are slim to none," Miranda leaned against the headboard, a cold glint in her eyes. "It looks like we'll only be able to find the culprit from inside the company."
After a few more days of rest in the hospital, and confirming she was fully recovered, Miranda was discharged and returned to the Prescott Manor.
The main reason for her rush back was that Clifton's birthday was coming up. Mr. Prescott himself had called her, full of anticipation, and fully entrusted her with the important task of organizing the Prescott heir's birthday party.
Night. Miranda pulled out the two suits she had prepared earlier from the closet and carefully laid them flat on the large bed in the bedroom.
One was a striped royal blue; the vertical pattern would visually lengthen him, making him look taller.
The color was bold but sophisticated. The other was a peaked-lapel brown suit, with a slight vintage vibe, quiet yet showing a hint of stylish mischief.
She had gotten Clifton's measurements from the butler beforehand and had them custom-made by a famous designer. They had just been delivered to the manor that afternoon.
When Clifton wheeled himself into the bedroom, this is what he saw: the woman intently smoothing out wrinkles on a suit in the lamplight, her profile soft.
He wheeled up to the bed, his gaze falling on the two suits that were clearly not his usual style. He raised an eyebrow slightly, his voice deep: "Are those for me?"
The voice startled Miranda. She recovered, a smile on her face. "Yeah. Do you like them?"
Clifton looked over the suits. He usually wore only black or gray—the most deep and restrained colors. "They're certainly brighter than what I normally wear."
Miranda knew this. She smiled and explained, "I thought it was for your birthday, so you should wear something a little different, something brighter."
She held up the royal blue one against Clifton's front, then switched to the brown one. The excitement in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Why don't you... try one on? See which one you like?"
Honestly, she privately wanted to see what this usually reserved man would look like in these two suits. He'd look incredible.
As the thought struck her, the words slipped out without thinking: “I can help you change your clothes.”
The moment she said it, Miranda regretted it, her face instantly heating up. What was she saying?!
Clifton paused. His eyes met Miranda's, which were bright with a mix of shyness and anticipation. His Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly.
"Okay." The man curved his lips into the faintest of smiles, his voice even huskier than before.