Chapter 98
Oscar spent another week in the hospital. After Samuel confirmed his wound was healing well and gave me a box of ointment he'd made himself, we went through the discharge procedures.
The house seemed brand new—not just the room arrangements had changed, but all the furniture in our bedroom had been replaced too.
Robert explained with a smile: "Fresh start with new things. I was worried something might be bad for you two, so I just replaced everything. Quick, Emily, take Oscar to rest. Even though the doctor cleared him to leave, he still needs to recover. I had the servants make chicken soup—it's good for wound healing."
I smiled and replied: "It's not that serious... Mr. Robert Lopez, don't fuss so much. Oscar's already sick of drinking soup these past few days. Don't worry, the doctor said he's recovering well."
"His health is the most important thing right now. He still needs chicken soup for nourishment." Robert's concern seemed to have nowhere to go, desperately trying to prove himself.
I could only smile and agree, first getting Oscar to sit on the bed while I organized our somewhat messy luggage.
Robert stood behind me, hesitating before speaking: "Emily, you probably haven't heard yet—The Brown Family members bailed Sophia out. I heard she's being released tomorrow."
He watched my face carefully, as if afraid I'd be upset.
I didn't even pause while folding clothes. I didn't really care about Sophia now, just curious that they still had money to bail her out at this point: "If she's out, she's out. Even if she gets out, she'll have a criminal record. Oscar already submitted all kinds of materials to the court—she'll probably get a subpoena soon."
Seeing I didn't seem to care, Robert finally relaxed: "I thought you'd be angry. Actually, some things, whether they can pass or not, it's best not to let them affect your mood."
I smiled and nodded at him: "Got it, thanks, Mr. Lopez."
Oscar didn't have as much patience: "I'd like to rest now."
Robert immediately got the hint: "Alright, I'll go downstairs right away. Rest well, let me know if you need anything."
Oscar added, "By the way, didn't you say the villa next door was being fixed up? How's that coming along? I think it would be more convenient if Emily and I moved over there."
This should be his second time suggesting moving there.
The smile on Robert's face froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He nodded at Oscar: "Everything's all ready over there. If you really want to move, you can anytime you like. The house deed is in the nightstand drawer—I already had it transferred to you."
Oscar forced a smile: "Thanks."
His words drove them further apart.
Robert's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. "Oscar, I know everyone's been upset about recent events. I've already warned William—he and the Brown Family members won't be in close contact anymore. I don't want outsiders affecting our relationship."
Oscar's lips curved slightly as he smiled at Robert: "You're making it sound too serious. I was just expressing my gratitude—after all, you gave me a villa worth tens of millions of dollars."
Robert looked helpless: "This is what I owe you..."
Oscar quickly cut him off: "Don't say that. You don't owe me anything. After all, you're my father, I'm a member of the Lopez family—that's an unchangeable fact. I don't mean anything by it. I just don't like crowds; I never had so many people around me growing up, so it's more comfortable for us to live on our own. Plus, we're so close by, there's really no difference, right?"
Robert smiled and agreed: "You're right, living anywhere is the same. I'll have someone help you move when the time comes."
After Robert left, I closed the door before I couldn't help asking: "Why does it feel a bit awkward since you came back? Didn't you use to get along naturally with him? Did staying in the hospital make things strange?"
Oscar's face showed discomfort as he turned away and frowned: "I just don't want too much involvement with him. Recently, his concern has crossed boundaries, and it makes me uncomfortable."
I walked over and gently patted his head: "Actually, you don't need to be so awkward. Just let things happen naturally."
I'd already said what I needed to say to him. I wasn't him, couldn't forgive things on his behalf. The bitter and sweet experiences of over twenty years were his own journey. He was smart—smarter than anyone about knowing what he wanted and didn't want.
"If we move over there, who's going to cook?"
Oscar raised the question. I looked at him half-jokingly: "Don't tell me you want me to cook."
"That works. If I could eat your cooking, that would be more than I could ask for." Oscar raised his eyebrows and smiled at me.
I wasn't as optimistic as him: "Are you sure you want to eat my cooking?"
Oscar's beautiful eyes widened: "Why do I have a bad feeling? Your cooking isn't poisonous, is it?"
"Definitely not poisonous..." As for other things, I couldn't guarantee. I smiled mysteriously at him, suddenly feeling eager to try.
Oscar gasped: "Why do I feel a chill down my back?"
I walked forward: "Lie down and let me check. Did you pull something with a big movement? Let me put medicine on you first."
Oscar didn't lie down: "Before putting on medicine, shouldn't you help me take off my clothes?"
"You... don't have hands?" Oscar had been acting strange lately, always seeming to stir things up.
But his innocent expression seemed to say I was overthinking: "I can't make big movements or fine movements."
I stepped forward, meeting his smiling eyes. My face flushed, not daring to look up at him. I stepped back to maintain distance as I helped him unbutton his shirt.
Who invented shirts with so many buttons? Oscar had issues too—suits and dress shirts were one thing, but why did even his pajamas have to be so formal?
Finally getting the buttons undone, I pushed him toward the bed: "Turn around, lie down."
I was already completely familiar with his back, but his bare chest was still something I couldn't quite look at.
"Be gentle." Oscar obediently lay on the bed, returning to his delicate, helpless act. "Doesn't hurt, right? You're definitely gentler than the nurses when changing bandages."
I smiled slightly: "Not necessarily."