Chapter 3

Marilyn never meant to stay, for she had stuff to do. Yet the nurse asked her to keep an eye on the man's condition. So she had no choice but to stick around for now. "When his family shows up, I'll be good to go," she thought.

While she was waiting, sleepiness kicked in. Then she dozed off by the bedside.

Malcolm, who was lying on the bed, slowly opened his eyes. After glancing around the room, he found himself in a hospital.

Suddenly, someone's phone rang, repeating the same line from a song over and over.

Annoyed by the noise, Malcolm furrowed his brows.

Marilyn, hearing the familiar ringtone, reached into her backpack on her knees and answered the call without looking up.

"Hi, Arturo." Since she just woke up, her voice was a bit raspy, sounding muffled.

"Mommy, this is Laverne," the little girl replied in a displeased voice.

"Sorry, babe, I didn't check the caller ID. What's up?" Marilyn shook her head to drive the drowsiness away.

Turned out Laverne was just calling to check if Marilyn had arrived safe and sound.

After a bit of chit-chat, Marilyn hung up the phone. Then she stretched her sore arms, yawning. When she looked up, she met the gaze of the man on the bed. Startled, she slightly furrowed her brows. Still, she managed to finish her stretch before slowly standing up.

"Sir, now that you're awake, I should get going. You may call your family to come take care of you," she piped up, her tone cold and distant.

"So you saved me?" Malcolm's voice was low and deep, sounding intimidating.

With that, he started to scrutinize the pretty lady in front of him. She got wavy brown curls, her features fine and delicate. Her big, clear eyes added to her charm. Yet her white dress was stained with blood.

He had seen loads of women, but none of them were as pure and beautiful as her. Somehow, he found her eyes familiar.

Marilyn glanced at the clock, only to find it was already past six. If she didn't leave now, she would be late for Arturo's piano competition. So she didn't have time to be distressed about Malcolm's rudeness.

"Sir, it was the doctor who saved you. All I did was call 911. And the ambulance happened to give me a ride into the city. So I guess I'll have to thank you instead. Gotta go, bye," she blurted out.

She turned around and left in a hurry.

Malcolm fixed his gaze on her receding figure, a cold smile tugging at his lips.

"No woman has ever ignored me like that. She's quite something. And her answer surprises me, too," he thought to himself.

As Marilyn was taking the escalator downstairs, a sharp-dressed, handsome guy was rushing up.

She then glanced at her phone to check the location Arturo had sent her. It was kinda far away, so she gotta hurry up.

"Malcolm, thank god you're here. I've searched almost every hospital in Fielddell for you." Julian panted as he looked at Malcolm, who was lying on the bed with an indifferent expression.

"Someone tampered with the brakes. Look into it thoroughly when you get back," Malcolm ordered coldly, his voice laced with fury. A sharp glint flashed in his deep eyes, souring the atmosphere in the room.

Julian nodded, his face grim.

"Excuse me, sir, I left something here," Marilyn cut them off, out of breath from the running.

A sneer curved Malcolm's lips, as he thought, "Is she playing hard to get?"

The reason Marilyn rushed back was that she realized she had left her handkerchief in the ward. It was a gift from her daughter, so it meant a lot to her.

She frantically searched around, only to find nothing.

As she clutched her forehead in frustration, she thought, "I remembered I had been holding it the whole time!"

She quickly got down on her knees and looked under the bed, but it wasn't there either.

Just then, a middle-aged cleaner working in the hospital came in.

Marilyn quickly walked over, asking, "Ma'am, did you see a bloody handkerchief while cleaning the ward?"

The cleaner shook her head. "Miss, I haven't cleaned this one yet."

Marilyn wondered, "Could it be that I left it in the ambulance? No way. I'd been holding it the whole time."

Then, she took out paper and pen, wrote down her number, and handed it to the cleaner.

"Ma'am, this is my phone number. If you find the handkerchief, please call me. I'll thank you properly. It's very important to me."

"Alright, I'll call you if I see it," replied the cleaner. Then she took the number before starting to mop the floor.

Marilyn nodded, putting away her pen and paper.

Just then, her phone rang again. She answered it as she made way for the door.

From her entrance to her departure, she didn't even take a single glance at Julian and Malcolm.

Watching her walk away, Julian couldn't help feeling a bit stunned.

"Malcolm, who is she? Why is she in such a hurry? But I gotta admit, she's gorgeous!" exclaimed Julian.

Malcolm remained silent, thinking, "What a lame excuse! She thinks I'll buy that? I've seen countless women using this trick to get my attention."

He narrowed his eyes, his demeanor icy and aloof, giving off a vibe that kept people at a distance.

After the cleaner left, Malcolm pulled back the covers, planning to leave. He hated hospitals.

Unexpectedly, he spotted a bloody handkerchief on the bed!

That woman must've pushed it under the covers while she was napping here.

"Julian, go ask that cleaner for the woman's phone number. Get a bag and take this handkerchief back," Malcolm demanded, a smirk on his face. "Let's see what trick she's gonna play this time," he thought, totally forgetting that she had saved his life.

"Got it!" Julian read Malcolm's mind from his expression. Then he turned to get the number.

When Marilyn left the hospital, she suddenly realized that it was rush hour. And the traffic was a nightmare.

She waited for a while, yet no cabs stopped for her. So Roland was her only hope. She prayed that he could come ASAP so she could make it to the piano competition in time.

When Malcolm and Julian came out of the hospital, they noticed Marilyn, who was standing by the roadside.

While Julian went to get the car, Malcolm waited on the spot.

Malcolm had changed into an expensive custom-made suit, looking all classy and elegant. He glanced at the sealed bag with the bloody handkerchief in his hand. Then, he looked up at the beauty waiting at the curb.

"Lynn, over here!" A handsome guy on a motorcycle called out to Marilyn from a distance.

With a smile, Marilyn ran toward him.

She quickly hopped on, and the motorcycle roared past Malcolm.

"Lynn," Malcolm muttered as he stared at her departing figure, a look of pain glinting in his deep eyes.

"Her name's Lynn," he thought.

In the sunset, his tall figure seemed to be shrouded in a deep sadness.

The name was like a taboo, and no one dared to bring it up before him. Now, hearing someone else calling it out, he felt so heartbroken that even breathing gave him pain.

"Dude, get in the car," Julian called out with a smile, pulling up in front of Malcolm.