Free Web NovelChapter 334: Chapter 332: A Surge of Coppery Sweetness
In the end, Mia Grant didn’t go to Portia.
She spoke with Julian Vaughn on the phone. He was planning to come to Jynsia on Friday, so there was no need for her to make a special trip.
This brother of hers was even more considerate than she had imagined.
Of course, if she hadn’t known in advance that this background character would push forward a major plot point in the original book, she would have been more than willing to trust him.
The two of them arranged to have dinner on Friday. Julian Vaughn had booked the restaurant and sent her the address early that morning.
He even asked if she needed him to pick her up.
Mia Grant checked the distance and declined.
Julian Vaughn probably had no concept of Jynsia’s Friday evening rush hour. She could take the subway straight there, which would be more convenient than him coming to get her.
The weather had been unpredictable lately. One day there were signs of it warming up, and the next, fierce winds would be raging.
The seasonal flu was running rampant. After two days of this yo-yoing weather, Mia Grant successfully caught a cold.
On Wednesday night, Mia Grant came down with pneumonia and a high fever and was taken to the hospital by her roommates to be put on an IV drip.
Since it was late at night, Mia Grant checked the time and told them to go back. They had an 8 a.m. class the next day. She could take time off, but it wouldn’t be good if they were late.
The girls didn’t want to leave, so Mia Grant reassured them. "My brother works at this hospital. I’ll just call him over. You don’t need to worry about me."
The moment they left, the smile vanished from Mia Grant’s face. She sank wearily into her chair, looking listless. Every part of her body ached with discomfort.
She didn’t call Hayes Hughes, because she wasn’t sure if he was even at the hospital at this hour.
Fortunately, she still had her System.
"You’re useless when it comes to the big stuff, but I trust you can handle a small task like this."
A classic case of stick and carrot. The System replied with a resounding affirmative, telling her to rest easy while it kept watch for her.
Just as Mia Grant was drifting in a daze, the System woke her up.
She looked up and saw that the IV bag was indeed almost empty.
"Good job," she praised it without reservation.
Sickness comes like a landslide. Mia Grant tried to call a nurse to remove the needle, but her throat was too dry, and her voice came out as a torn, unrecognizable rasp.
She paused for a moment before managing to make a sound again.
Because she had waited a bit too long, blood was already starting to back up into the tube by the time the nurse arrived.
She didn’t rush to leave, resting in the chair for a moment before getting up.
At this hour, it was better not to go back to her dorm.
She planned to take a taxi back to her own place.
Staggering out of the hospital, Mia Grant barely stayed conscious on the way, relying entirely on the System’s chatter to keep her awake.
It was hard to get a taxi in Jynsia at night.
She squatted down by the roadside and took out her phone to hail a ride.
The driver was two kilometers away and would need some time to get to her.
Mia Grant turned off her phone screen and let out a slow yawn.
The System was still chattering away, telling her she couldn’t fall asleep here.
"I kn—"
[Host, look out!]
Mia Grant froze, her unfinished words muffled by her mask.
A dark figure swayed before her, and a blade glinted in the dim light.
A drunken figure brandishing a cleaver was approaching her.
Mia Grant stared blankly, as if rooted to the spot, the System’s screams ringing in her ears.
’At this distance, there’s no way I can outrun him.’
Perhaps it was because of her illness, but Mia Grant’s will to survive at that moment was surprisingly weak.
It was because the System realized this that its warnings were so frantic.
’My demands are simple now. I just hope he makes it a clean, fatal blow. That way, I’ll suffer less.’
With a dull THUD, something fell to the ground.
Immediately after, a group of people swarmed forward. The scene descended into chaos, punctuated by the man’s intermittent wails of agony.
When Mia Grant noticed the person in the lead was Zero, she finally let out the breath she had been holding.
Gazing at the blade on the ground, her legs gave out. All the strength drained from her body, and she collapsed onto the pavement in a heap, gasping for air.
"Miss? Miss Grant?" The drunkard was dragged away by their men, and the street quickly returned to its usual quiet.
Zero approached to check Mia Grant’s condition.
She seemed to be all right.
They had been watching from nearby and had rushed over the moment they sensed trouble.
It looked like she was just scared.
Mia Grant was helped to her feet. She shook her groggy head. "Thank you."
Just then, the car she had hailed arrived.
Mia Grant silenced her ringing phone and took a step forward, signaling to the driver that she was here.
The foot she put forward landed as if on a cloud of cotton.
So soft...
So soft that she wanted to fall over and sleep right there.
The moment that thought surfaced, her throat began to itch. She tried to speak, but she choked on the wind and started coughing violently, as if trying to hack up her own lungs.
Gradually, a metallic, sweet taste rose in her throat.
Then, her vision went black. Her shadow, which had been swaying in the wind, seemed to have finally found its home as it pitched heavily toward the ground.
’Finally, I can sleep.’
—
The night was thick. People moved in and out of the hospital’s VIP room frequently, and the hallway was crowded with anxious faces, all of them peering restlessly toward the room.
At the end of the hall, subordinates from the various families were reporting to their superiors.
One call was made after another, never ceasing.
The first to arrive were Ian Sinclair and Felix Sinclair.
They lived near the university, so they had the shortest travel time.
As soon as the two appeared, a path was finally cleared through the hallway.
Felix Sinclair glanced at the figure lying on the hospital bed, then stopped and gestured for Ian Sinclair to go in. "I’ll go get an update on the situation."
Ian Sinclair nodded in acknowledgment.
When the two had received the call, their subordinate had told them that Mia Grant had encountered a drunkard with a knife, that there was blood on the ground, and that Mia had fainted.
The fragmented pieces of information, when put together, made it sound very much like Mia Grant had been stabbed by the drunkard.
Felix Sinclair’s tense emotions slowly calmed as he listened to the doctor’s firm words.
"There are no external injuries, just pneumonia and a high fever."
"Okay, thank you."
The office door opened and closed. The doctor yawned, preparing to go catch up on some sleep.
Before he could get up, the door was pushed open from the outside again.
He looked up in annoyance, but his expression immediately switched to a smile when he saw who it was. "Ah, Dr. Hughes, what brings you here so late?"
"Your sister? Oh, right, Miss Grant. She’s fine."
The doctor rattled on for a while longer before seeing him out, then quickly poured a glass of water to soothe his throat.
He had only drunk half the water when the door was pushed open again.
This scene repeated itself over and over.
He ended up repeating the same explanation at least a dozen times, and things didn’t finally quiet down until three or four in the morning.
’Anyone who didn’t know better would think the young lady of the Grant Family was on her deathbed...’
In reality, it was just pneumonia, coupled with extreme weakness.
—
Back in the hospital corridor, all uninvolved personnel had been cleared out.
Only a few travel-worn figures remained.
Kian Keller and Yates Donovan were abroad.
Silas Grant had arrived with the Sinclair family.
Hayes Hughes stepped out of the hospital room and looked at Carla Sinclair. "She’s still sleeping."
"I’m going in to see her," Carla Sinclair said, still worried.
Once she left, only the men remained in the hallway.
Julian Vaughn scanned his surroundings and was the first to break the silence. "That drunkard—why did he have a knife?"
"Are we sure he was just an ordinary drunk?"
