Chapter 107
When I woke up, I was already in the hospital.
My consciousness slowly returned. The exhaustion made me want to fall back asleep, but I couldn't - it was too noisy. Someone was rambling on and on in my ear.
I slowly opened my eyes. The world still seemed pitch black. I lifted my heavy eyelids bit by bit, but the blinding white light made me close them again. Oscar's voice was in my ear: "Emily, Emily, are you awake? Open your eyes and look at me. Don't sleep, Emily—"
That voice was just too loud.
All the colors reshaped before my eyes, and I saw Oscar's bloodshot eyes. His handsome face was deeply tired.
He called out to someone with barely contained excitement: "Doctor, doctor, come quickly, she's awake."
I wanted to tell him to be quiet, to tell him it was just opening my eyes - what's there to get excited about? But I couldn't say anything.
Soon, a doctor came over, checked my eyelids, measured my blood pressure and heartbeat, examined my limbs' responses, and then told Oscar: "Her vital signs are gradually recovering. As long as she can wake up, recovery will be quick. Keep observing and recording."
Oscar still seemed worried, grabbing the doctor's hand and asking eagerly: "She'll be okay, right? She doesn't look so good. When's the earliest she can recover?"
The doctor answered patiently: "As long as the patient can wake up, consciousness will gradually return. As for the specific degree of recovery, we still need to do detailed examinations. Mr. Lopez, don't worry. From the current situation, there shouldn't be major problems."
The doctor soon left. Oscar sat by my bed, holding my somewhat cold hand, warming it in his palm, speaking to me very gently: "Emily, you have to get better. You can't have anything happen to you. I won't allow anything to happen to you. Don't worry, once you're better, I'll help you get revenge. Anyone who dares to hurt you, even if it costs me my life, I'll make them pay."
My finger moved slightly, lightly scratching his palm. I opened my mouth wanting to tell him I was really okay, but my throat felt blocked, unable to make any sound.
Oscar's eyes reddened. He seemed to be listening very carefully to what I wanted to say, but seeing me open my mouth silently, the heartache in his eyes almost overflowed.
My finger moved again. I tried hard to crack a smile - since I couldn't speak, I'd give him a smile to let him know I was fine.
He seemed to understand my expression and buried his whole face in our clasped hands. The back of my hand became wet.
Was this guy actually crying?
When we get back, I'll definitely tease him about this. It's not easy to see him cry. No wonder he kept his head down - he knows it doesn't look good, right? But he's good-looking, so crying probably doesn't make him ugly.
"How is she?" A familiar voice sounded outside the door. It was Michael.
Oscar quickly wiped his eyes: "Emily has woken up, but her condition isn't great. The initial examination suggests possible internal injuries. This time... thank you. If you hadn't reminded me, I'm afraid..."
Michael glanced at him proudly, his tone cold: "Between her and me, we don't need you to say thank you for her."
When the two talked, they'd always be sarcastic within three sentences. Facing Michael's coldness, Oscar didn't respond with hostility this time, but said very sincerely: "No, I'm not thanking you on her behalf. I'm saying it for myself. Mr. Johnson, you saved her life, which is like saving my life. Thank you."
He said I was his life - that's probably what he meant, right?
But Michael's face seemed a bit dark.
He walked in front of me, the hardness in his tone softening a bit: "Can you hear me?"
I blinked, wanting to smile at him, but as soon as I moved, it seemed to pull all the muscles in my body. I didn't know where it hurt, making me frown involuntarily. I wanted to cry out in pain, but couldn't make a sound.
Oscar quickly turned around, checking anxiously but not daring to touch my body: "What's wrong? What's wrong? Does it hurt? I'll go get the doctor."
My finger moved, pulling his hand with slight force. My hoarse voice finally managed to say: "No need."
Michael's gaze glanced at our clasped hands, then looked away disdainfully before saying coolly: "Since you can hear me, just listen. I've got Jeffrey under control. I figured you'd want to deal with him yourself, so get better quickly."
Oscar said in a low voice: "I'll help Emily get justice for what happened to her."
Michael looked at him sideways: "Just you? With just those forces you've built up over the past two years, if you could really stand up to them, Emily wouldn't be lying here today."
I have to say, Michael was more dominant.
Oscar's tone was calm: "Mr. Johnson, I don't want to argue with you. I've been planning for two years. It's time to see the results."
Michael snorted coldly: "We'll see then."
The hospital room fell quiet, with only the regular beeping of the machines. Michael didn't leave, and Oscar didn't ask him to leave.
"Water—" I felt my lips were dry. There were two people by my side, couldn't anyone hear what I needed?
Oscar quickly brought over a water cup, but didn't directly give me water to drink. He dipped a cotton swab in water and gently moistened my dry lips bit by bit.
Gregory arrived at this moment. He pushed open the door somewhat urgently, his tone anxious: "Uncle Oscar, how's Emily?"
When Oscar turned to look at him, his expression wasn't so pleasant: "How did you know?"
Gregory wanted to come forward but was blocked by Oscar's body. He looked at me from afar anxiously and said, "I saw the news about a serious traffic accident. I recognized it was Emily's car. How is she? She's okay, right?"
Oscar frowned, his face clearly showing displeasure: "Gregory, have you forgotten proper manners? Calling her by her name like that is impolite."
Gregory wanted to say something more, but Michael called out coldly toward the door: "What the hell are you doing? Letting just anyone in - throw him out."
Several bodyguards in black suits outside responded and came in, grabbing Gregory to drag him out.
Gregory had probably never been treated this way before: "Who are you? Let go of me, how dare you..."
The rest of his words were cut off by the closing hospital room door, and I couldn't hear clearly anymore.
The room fell quiet again. My tired eyelids gradually closed. I needed a good sleep.