012: Injured (3)

They arrived at the hospital.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, Owen Moreland opened the door and, holding Amelia Clarke in his arms, ran toward the emergency room.

The twenty-year-old girl held in his embrace was almost weightless, so light it was heart-wrenching.

Ann Chapman had already arrived with the doctors and nurses waiting at the entrance.

Seeing his friend running anxiously towards him while holding a girl, he felt surprised, about to make a teasing remark. However, the words died on his lips when he saw Amelia Clarke's face and head covered in blood, his expression turned serious and he hurriedly got Amelia Clarke into the resuscitation room.

In the winter of Capital City, the sun always set early.

When Amelia Clarke woke up, the city lights were already on outside.

Slowly opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was a magnified, unfamiliar face of a man with upturned eyebrows and bright red lips and white teeth.

Caught peeping, Ann Chapman's fair-skinned old face turned red with embarrassment as he coughed and asked with feigned seriousness, "Uh...awake? Do you feel discomfort anywhere?"

Then, remembering something, he said with a teasing smile, "I'm Owen Moreland's friend and also your attending surgeon. My surname is Chapman, you can just call me Big Brother Chapman."

Ann Chapman was a surgeon, highly skilled in medicine. Amelia Clarke's head injury had been scanned with CT, and luckily there was no damage to the brain or skull, just external trauma. While there had been a lot of bleeding, it wasn't too severe. After his treatment, she was simply awaiting recovery, with no serious complications expected.

Amelia Clarke seized on the key point, "Owen Moreland?"

She remembered promoting small appliances, encountering Ciara Taylor, and then... Ciara Taylor had hit her with something.

"Yes, it was him who brought you to the hospital..." Ann Chapman said perplexedly, then realized - how could the girl know who brought her to the hospital while she was unconscious?

He felt that, as a good friend, it was both his duty and obligation to build up a great and glorious image of his good brother in front of women. With a mischievous smile, he said, "You don't know how anxious Owen was about you. Ever since he was dumped by his former girlfriend more than a decade ago, I've never seen him so concerned about any woman..."

This... clearly was undermining him.

Just at that moment.

"What did you say?" Owen Moreland's voice came from the entrance of the ward, dangerous and icy.

Ann Chapman's words halted in his mouth, and he quickly straightened up to say, "I was talking to Miss Carter about her injury. That's about all... there's nothing else that needs attention. You get some rest, and I'll come check on you again tomorrow."

Having said that, he straightened his coat, which had no wrinkles, and walked out of the ward with calm composure. As soon as the ward door shut, before he had a chance to take a breath, he took off running.

Owen Moreland ignored him, walking over to the table and placing the packed dinner he brought on it.

He moved to the side of the bed, looking down at Amelia Clarke. He intended to ask if she was still in pain, but instead what came out was, "Do you want to sit up for a while?"

Lying down for such a long time had made her body sore and tired, and she indeed needed to sit up for a bit. Amelia Clarke wanted to nod, but as soon as she moved, it pulled at her wound, causing her head to hurt even more fiercely, so she could only let out a soft "mm-hmm."

Her voice was raspy and hoarse.

Owen Moreland slowly raised the hospital bed and tucked a pillow behind her back.

His actions were exceedingly gentle.

He went over to the side, took a clean cup, poured some hot water, cooled it down, and handed it to her, "Drink some water."

Amelia Clarke was indeed thirsty. She took it without having time to say thank you, and drank it down eagerly yet slowly.

As soon as the cup left her lips, Owen Moreland reached out to take it from her.

Amelia Clarke was startled and then expressed her gratitude, "Thank you."

Owen Moreland said nothing, just put the cup back.

He then said after returning, "You just drank so much water, wait a while before eating anything."

Amelia Clarke pursed her lips and nodded.

She really didn't feel like eating at the moment.

She felt weak all over, leaning softly against the pillow.

She wanted to ask about what happened that afternoon, but Owen Moreland looked serious and had an overwhelming presence, causing her to feel intimidated and nervous, afraid to speak freely.

Moreover, her issues were insignificant to him, and probably not something he would care about. Asking might yield no real answers.

Yet, she was anxious.

Even though she hadn't been able to work until the end today, she had earned quite a bit in commission. She wondered if the organizers of the promotional event would use her not working until the end as an excuse, or say that her incident had disrupted the event, thereby refusing to pay her? She had encountered such situations before...

She needed to make a call and ask.

She looked around but did not see her phone or her bag.

She slapped her forehead subconsciously, her bag must still be with Jeremy Murphy.

Midway through the action, her wrist was caught by someone, and a robust force stopped her movement.

"What are you doing?" she asked, displeased.

Amelia Clarke suddenly realized as well that she had injured her head and was supposed to be taking it easy.

She looked up and gave Owen Moreland a sheepish smile, "I forgot I had an injury on my head..."

Owen Moreland: "..."

He let go of her hand and pulled the blanket up, covering Amelia Clarke tightly, leaving only her head exposed.

Amelia Clarke: "..." She felt like she was being treated like a child.

"The person who attacked you has been detained by the police," Owen Moreland suddenly stated, and it took Amelia Clarke a moment to grasp the meaning of his words.

Ciara Taylor was caught by the police?

"You were injured while working, and I've negotiated on your behalf with the organizers. They've agreed to cover your medical expenses, nutrition costs, and other fees, in addition to your compensation, totalling fifteen thousand five hundred dollars," Owen Moreland said, taking a stack of cash from his wallet and handing it over, "Here, for you."

His concise speech left Amelia Clarke dumbfounded.

She had just been worried about whether the organizers would withhold her payment, and if they really didn't pay her, what would she do?

As a result, not only had Owen Moreland retrieved her compensation, but he also managed to get her medical and nutrition expenses covered?

This matter seemed very easy for him, as simple as uttering a few words.

On second thought, of course it is, who is Owen Moreland? Who would dare not give him face when he speaks?

She could even envision the scene of the organizers nodding and bowing as they handed over the money...

Amelia Clarke's eyes flickered with a near-grateful sentiment as she reached out and took the money from Owen Moreland's hand.

"Thank you," she said.

Apart from thanking him, she didn't know what else to say.

"This money..." She was troubled again, there was nowhere to put the money since her bag wasn't with her.

Little did she know...

Owen Moreland turned around, opened a cabinet, and took out a plain-looking women's bag.

Amelia Clarke's eyes moved slightly.

Her gaze towards Owen Moreland carried a faint questioning.

Why was he being so attentive to her? Reflecting on the past, it seemed ever since the night when Isaac Taylor took her to deal with Mr. Jones, Owen Moreland had helped her multiple times.

Could it be that such a prominent figure was now so bored that he found enjoyment in helping others?

She wanted to ask, but felt that such a question, when asked, would carry with it a hint of implicative intimacy.

Forget it.

She put the money away, placing the bag beside her pillow.

Before long, Benjamin Richardson arrived with Dorothy Brown.

Owen Moreland stood up to leave, then as if remembering something, called Dorothy Brown aside to speak for a few minutes before leaving with Benjamin Richardson.

Dorothy Brown helped Amelia Clarke eat some food and assisted her with a simple wash before helping her to lie down, instructing her to sleep.

Amelia Clarke wasn't sleepy and did not want to rest.

Dorothy Brown urged her, "Mr. Moreland instructed me to ensure you rest well. So please try to sleep, considering the injury on your head; you should sleep early. Even if you're not tired, you should close your eyes and rest..."

On and on she went, like a machine gun without end.

Amelia Clarke surrendered, lying down and closing her eyes to rest.

Unknowingly, she fell asleep.