Bab 15: 014: He is my cousin.
After hanging up on Mia Taylor's call, the entire ward settled down into silence.
Dorothy Brown started to speak several times but stopped herself, eventually only saying, "Try not to take calls too often; you're injured and need to rest properly."
Having lived for a good part of her life and seen all sorts of things, Dorothy Brown heard the loud volume of Mia Taylor's voice and had pretty much sorted out the situation in her mind.
Amelia Clarke smiled and let out a soft "Mm" in response.
Shortly after dinner, Ann Chapman accompanied by doctors and nurses came for rounds.
He asked Amelia some questions and did a quick check-up on her. There was nothing serious, and her recovery was going well; she would be able to be discharged in a few days.
Amelia Clarke: "Thank you, Dr. Chapman."
Ann Chapman waved her hand at the others behind her, signaling them to leave first; then she changed her serious demeanor, smiling with a hint of roguishness.
"Amelia, when did you get to know our Owen? How far have you two developed?"
Amelia Clarke: "..."
Ann Chapman with a shameless look: "Don't be shy, come on, tell big brother Chapman..."
Amelia Clarke: "..."
Suddenly, a ringtone from a cellphone broke the silence.
Ann Chapman paused midsentence, showing impatience as she fished out her phone from the pocket of her white coat. After a glance at the screen, her expression changed to one of utmost seriousness, and she walked toward the balcony, even going so far as to slide the balcony door shut behind her.
On the call, Owen Moreland's voice came through, calm and indifferent, "Focus on your work during working hours, and stop making inappropriate jokes with the patients."
The warning was clear.
Ann Chapman was taken aback.
Was this guy omniscient? He called with a warning just as the words were leaving her mouth.
Turning her head to glance at Amelia quietly sitting on the hospital bed reading a magazine, the girl's visage was exquisite and her aura ethereal. Sitting there quietly, she was like a beautiful painting, and the bandages on her head did not detrail from her charm but instead added a vulnerable beauty to her appearance.
Ann Chapman's mouth curled into a sardonic smile, "Owen, looks like you're really taking this to heart, both advocating for salary and compensation for someone and secretly thwarting Isaac Taylor's attempt to rescue someone from the police station. For so many years, this is the first time I've seen you act this way for a girl, especially such a tender young girl. You old bull, always seeming so stern and proper, who would've known you're so frisky deep down, doing as the young do and chasing after the young 'grass'..."
"Stop talking nonsense!" Owen Moreland's voice was severe, "She's still a child; mind your words when you talk to her, and keep some decency for yourself!"
With that, he hung up the call.
Ann Chapman narrowed her eyes, closely observing Amelia Clarke in the room.
Owen Moreland was protecting her to the extent that he wouldn't even allow jokes...
Still a child?
She looked to be about twenty, and a twenty-year-old girl is like a peach ripe just at the right moment, certainly not a child anymore.
However, Ann Chapman really didn't dare to continue teasing Amelia. After muttering, "I was just joking earlier; don't take it to heart," she left.
Amelia Clarke didn't take what she said seriously at all.
Around nine o'clock, the police arrived to inquire about the incident.
Amelia Clarke lay on the hospital bed, weakly half-closing her eyes, her brows lightly furrowed, and her lips pale. She only mentioned that her head hurt a lot, and she didn't remember much about the situation.
After the police asked her some questions, to which she shook her head, indicating she didn't know, wasn't clear, or couldn't remember, they left, saying they would come back when she was feeling better.
If the case details weren't sorted out within a day, Ciara Taylor couldn't be released.
Ciara Taylor deserved a lesson, and detention would serve as a good one. Let her enjoy a few more days inside to remember the lesson well.
Amelia Clarke had suffered an unwarranted blow; she had to get something back for herself.
Owen Moreland must've been very busy; she didn't see him all day.
When Amelia Clarke was tired, she slept; when hungry, she ate, spending a carefree and relaxed weekend for the first time without having to worry about money.
At seven in the evening.
Jeremy Murphy arrived with a basket of fruits and a bouquet of carnations to visit her.
Amelia Clarke wasn't much of a talker, always having nothing to say around people she wasn't familiar with, so to avoid an awkward silence Jeremy Murphy kept talking. He first narrated to Amelia in vivid detail what had happened after she fainted from her injury, then said, "I wanted to stay and take care of you last night, but the Store Manager called me back to deal with some issues, and I was busy until late into the night..."
On and on, he said a lot.
Amelia Clarke listened absentmindedly; she really didn't want to hear him talking about these things, but since he had come to visit out of kindness, she didn't feel it was right to ask him to leave.
After a moment, Jeremy Murphy hesitated before asking her, "Who was that man who brought you to the hospital yesterday? He seemed very anxious about you."
The man appeared to be in his thirties, dressed in a suit and arriving in a luxury car, looking every bit the big boss.
Moreover, yesterday when that man went to the store to discuss Amelia Clarke's medical bills, the Store Manager initially refused to pay. However, after receiving a phone call from the district chief, his attitude did a complete one-eighty. Not only did he pay the medical expenses, but he also nodded and bowed as he saw the man off.
Later, Jeremy Murphy privately asked the Store Manager who the man was, and the Store Manager acted all mysterious, which made him inexplicably nervous.
That man must be a major figure.
A young and beautiful college girl with a powerful figure... those always seemed to conjure words like 'mistress', 'lover', 'kept woman'.
Seeing Jeremy Murphy's tense expression, Amelia Clarke knew what he was thinking.
He must think, like Mia Taylor, that she had that kind of relationship with Owen Moreland.
Owen Moreland had kindly saved her; she couldn't let people misunderstand his good intentions.
Amelia Clarke smiled and said, "He's my cousin, just happened to be passing by yesterday..."
Oh, a cousin! Jeremy Murphy easily believed her. He laughed heartily, his mood instantly clear and bright, and murmured, "I knew you weren't that kind of person..."
"Hmm?" Amelia Clarke didn't hear clearly.
Jeremy Murphy's expression froze; he quickly changed the subject: "Nothing... would you like some fruit? I'll wash it for you."
Without waiting to see if Amelia Clarke wanted to eat, he took an apple from the fruit basket he'd brought and stood up to head for the bathroom.
When Owen Moreland walked into the ward, he saw the tender scene of a boy peeling an apple for a girl.
The man was in a perfectly tailored black suit, its deep color making him look all the more mature and composed. His features were handsome, his gaze deep and restrained. As he moved, a glimpse of a high-end watch could be seen on his wrist, adding a touch of distinguished charm to him.
His presence was immense, as if the air pressure in the space changed the moment he entered the room.
The previously relaxed Jeremy Murphy suddenly became tense; he stood up, struggled to address Owen Moreland, and finally managed two words.
"Cousin."
Owen Moreland's eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if puzzled.
Amelia Clarke touched her forehead: This Jeremy Murphy, what kind of cousin is he calling?
She wanted to say something to clarify.
But before she could, Jeremy Murphy introduced himself directly, "Cousin, nice to meet you, my name is Jeremy Murphy, I work in sales, and I'm a friend of your niece."
After speaking, he even bowed respectfully.
His demeanor was like that of a boyfriend nervously meeting his girlfriend's parents for the first time.
Amelia Clarke: "..."
The light in Owen Moreland's eyes deepened as he glanced at Jeremy Murphy and then turned to Amelia Clarke, a look in his eyes filled with emotions she couldn't understand: "Cousin?"
Amelia Clarke awkwardly pulled at the corner of her mouth and quickly lowered her head.
She was just trying to protect him, his help was out of goodwill. If others misunderstood their relationship, it wouldn't matter much for her, but wouldn't it tarnish his reputation?
Owen Moreland didn't say anything. He walked over to the sofa, sat down, and casually pulled a magazine from underneath the coffee table to flip through.
He was just sitting there, not saying a word, but the aura he radiated filled the room, making the air feel as heavy as thousands of pounds, oppressing one's breath.
Jeremy Murphy felt like he was on pins and needles; he seemed to lose the ability to peel the apple properly and, unable to stand the pressure much longer, he stood up intending to excuse himself.
Owen Moreland's gaze swept toward him—cold and piercing: "Are you interested in pursuing Amelia?"
That look, how to describe it? In Jeremy Murphy's view, it seemed like if he answered 'yes', that gaze would turn into a tangible blade, ready to slice him into pieces.
He swallowed nervously and shook his head.
But just as he finished shaking his head, Jeremy Murphy froze.
He had feelings for Amelia Clarke, yet just now, he denied his own feelings in front of her, all because of a look from her 'cousin'.
Why was he so timid?
In that moment, Jeremy Murphy felt utterly ashamed, as if he couldn't face Amelia Clarke anymore. He even imagined she was looking at him with contempt.
Without daring to raise his head, he hastily said his goodbyes and fled as if escaping.
Watching Jeremy Murphy's hasty retreat, Amelia Clarke was taken aback, not even sure what had just happened.
Sometimes, the contest between men can be so sudden and silent.
Clearly, Jeremy Murphy was utterly defeated.
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