Chapter 48
Emily's POV
Simon cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Let's take a look at that wrist."
He examined me carefully and professionally, though I could feel his gaze lingering on my face when I wasn't looking at him. After taking X-rays and reviewing the results, he confirmed what we already knew.
"It's a clean break," Simon said, showing us the X-ray. "You'll need a cast for about four weeks."
As he put the cast on my wrist, an uncomfortable silence filled the room.
"It's been three years since we've seen each other, right?" Simon finally said.
"Something like that," I replied flatly.
"Next month is my mother's death anniversary," he continued. "Come pay respects with me."
My jaw tightened. "I'll choose another time to visit."
"Emily, please," Simon said, lowering his voice.
I turned my head away to avoid his gaze.
Simon didn't say anything more. After finishing with the cast, he turned and left.
After Simon left, Daisy immediately questioned me.
"What was that all about? Your ex-boyfriend?"
"No," I said firmly.
"Looked like a couple to me," Thomas remarked, turning his gaze to Michael.
"Absolutely not," I quickly objected, perhaps too quickly. "He was my friend. We grew up together as children. Then he betrayed our friendship for a woman."
"So you were jealous—" Thomas began.
"This isn't about the woman," I interrupted him. "It's about betrayal."
Michael continued to watch me, his expression unreadable.
I changed the subject. "Can we please talk about something else? Like how I'm supposed to handle cases with one hand?"
Lucas entered the room, sensing the strange atmosphere. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing happened, I think I need to rest now," I said preemptively, avoiding returning to the previous topic.
Everyone tactfully left, leaving Lucas to keep me company. He sat beside me on the hospital bed. The silence between us was comfortable, completely different from the tense atmosphere earlier.
"Why did you do that earlier?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"Offer yourself as a hostage instead of me to the mugger."
Lucas looked surprised. "You're asking about this now?"
I shrugged my good shoulder. "I've been thinking about it. You've never been the heroic type."
He wasn't offended; instead, he laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You know what I mean."
He was silent for a moment. "We're family, Emily. That's what family does."
Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully.
"Don't you remember?" he asked, his expression softening. "When we were kids—I was about eight, you were seven—those neighborhood boys were bullying me. You jumped in front of me and got pushed down. Your hand was injured that time too."
The memory came flooding back—those big boys, Lucas crying, my overwhelming anger at seeing him hurt, and the pain of falling on the concrete.
"I forgot about that," I said vaguely.
"But I didn't," Lucas said simply. "You protected me then. I thought it was my turn now."
I smiled, my mood improving considerably.
---
I stared at the ceiling of my hospital room, counting the tiny holes in each acoustic tile for the third time. The beige walls were closing in on me after just one night. My left wrist, now encased in a bulky white cast, throbbed dully despite the painkillers.
"I want to be discharged," I told Lucas, who was flipping through a magazine in the chair beside my bed. "This is just a simple fracture."
Lucas didn't even look up. "The doctor recommended observation for a few days."
I rolled my eyes. I tried to reach for my phone on the bedside table, but it was just beyond the grasp of my good hand. Frustrated, I let out a dramatic sigh.
"Could you—"
Before I finished, Lucas placed the phone in my hand. "This is exactly why you need to stay here. You can barely function with one hand."
I awkwardly unlocked my phone with my right hand, scrolling through emails. "I'm bored out of my mind."
Lucas launched into his awkward comedy routine, trying to cheer me up.
---
By mid-morning, my phone was buzzing constantly with messages from my uncles and aunts. Lucas explained sheepishly that he'd informed the family about my "accident."
"You did what?" I glared at him.
"They're concerned about you, Emily."
I laughed bitterly. "They're concerned about my shares, not me."
Lucas fell silent, unable to argue.
My accident attorney had informed me that in the event of my unexpected death, all my assets would be donated to the Riverstone Mental Health Foundation. This was something my uncles couldn't accept. So upon learning I was hospitalized, they would definitely come to visit me.
The door to my room suddenly swung open, revealing Sophia.
Sophia strutted in wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit and stiletto heels that clicked aggressively against the linoleum floor. She carried an enormous fruit basket wrapped in cellophane and tied with an elaborate bow.
It was filled with fruits I didn't like, and I knew she did it on purpose.
Lucas seemed to shrink in his chair, making himself as small as possible. Sophia had that effect on him—turning my normally confident cousin into a nervous wreck. Their sibling dynamic was fascinating and painful to watch.
Sophia strode around my hospital room, inspecting everything with a critical eye. Her heels clicked like tiny gunshots.
"So," she said finally, turning to face me, "you managed to turn your hand into a baseball mitt. Classic Emily—always finding new ways to be dramatically injured."
Lucas shot her a warning look, which she completely ignored.
I smiled sweetly. "You know, Sophia, I've been thinking about calling a board meeting next week. As majority shareholder, I should probably take a more active role in company operations."
The color drained from her face. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I? Perhaps I should review your division's performance personally."
Sophia's perfectly glossed lips pressed into a thin line. "You're in no condition—"
"Cut me an apple," I interrupted, gesturing toward the fruit basket.
"What?"
"You brought me fruit. I'd like some. But I can't cut it myself with this cast." I waved my injured arm for emphasis. "So be a dear cousin and prepare some for me."
Sophia looked like she'd been asked to clean a public toilet with her tongue, but she reluctantly moved to the basket. I watched with undisguised amusement as she struggled with the cellophane wrapping.
"Thinner slices, please," I instructed as she hacked at an apple. "No, not wedges. Thin, round slices."
Lucas was silently shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Actually, I've changed my mind," I said as Sophia finished cutting. "I'd prefer the pear instead."
Sophia slammed the knife down. "I'm not your servant, Emily."
"Sophia, let me handle this. You should get back to the company, there's a lot of work to be done," Lucas intervened.
Sophia grabbed her designer handbag, glaring daggers at me. "I have actual work to do, unlike some people who play detective as a hobby."
As she stormed out, Lucas finally erupted in laughter. "You're terrible."
"She deserved it," I said, grinning. "Did you see her face when I mentioned the board meeting?"