Tiffany frowned, confused. She didn't know what Eric was up to, so she shook her head with a smile and dismissed the thought. It wasn't that she hadn't considered taking pain medication, but the idea was too daunting. After all, she wasn't Jacqueline Wood, the Miracle Healer; otherwise, she'd have nothing to fear. "To heal my injuries, I can only stay in the hospital for two days, then recover secretly," she mused.

With that, Tiffany leaned against the bed, picking up the laptop to alleviate her boredom. After some deliberation, she opened a document and began typing slowly. She was writing a story—a screenplay, to be precise—a story she'd envisioned countless times during her five years of imprisonment. She'd self-directed and performed it repeatedly in her mind, fueled by her desires and thoughts. However, she'd never published it before her death. From the first word, the story flowed effortlessly from her fingers; she wrote several thousand words in one sitting. She casually created a post and uploaded it, unconcerned about readership. She was simply happy to be writing. [Please remove the promotional sentence about finding novels online]. If she wrote a little each day, she estimated she could finish it in two weeks.

Satisfied, Tiffany set aside the laptop. Meanwhile, across the ocean on Sunset Island, a bustling island in the mysterious deep sea, a brightly lit Eukinian-style palace stood under the night sky. Richard sat at the head of a large table, addressing a group of influential, and visibly fearful, individuals. Despite their arrogance, Richard's commanding presence kept them subdued.

A tense silence filled the hall. Finally, Richard's deep, cold voice boomed, “Han…” (Note: The original text abruptly cuts off here with "soudu:"). His words hung heavy in the air, sending shivers down their spines.

“Mr. Hampton, we didn’t expect that man to be so cunning. This is the second time,” one man stammered. Richard's face darkened. “There won’t be a next time.”

“Yes!” they all responded, nodding hurriedly.

Just then, Garry entered. “Richard, something happened in Lovell City. It concerns Tiffany…” Since nearly injuring Tiffany, Garry had become far more cautious, monitoring her movements without interference, but still reporting her status.

Richard's expression shifted upon hearing news of Tiffany. “Speak.”

Garry recounted Eric's kidnapping and the hut fire. Learning of Tiffany's injuries, the hall grew even colder. Before anyone could react to the presence of a woman beside the typically uninterested Richard, he quietly uttered, “Return.”

Garry hesitated. “Then, are we not pursuing the escaped man?” Their primary mission was to capture the man, a matter of importance to Richard. Their failure to properly guard him was a serious lapse. They’d initiated a search; news would surely come within two days. Returning now would seem pointless.

Richard merely glared coldly at Garry, who immediately shuddered. “Yes, sir!” he replied, then hurried to arrange transportation.

Sidney, unfazed, watched as Richard boarded the plane. Nobody on Sunset Island dared to question Richard.

A message arrived as Richard took off. It contained Tiffany’s hospital address, her room number, and the message: "[Crazy for you! Good luck, future brother-in-law. Your future brother-in-law.]"

A faint smile played on Richard’s usually cold face. Eric was quite clever.

Sidney leaned in, reading the message. “Huh? Who dares call themselves your brother-in-law?” he exclaimed. Realizing the sender, he gasped. “It… it’s Eric Kelley, Tiffany’s younger brother? Richard, when did you recruit Eric?”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Recently.” He’d recognized Eric’s hacking skills and provided him with a modified supercomputer, quickly turning him into a valuable asset. It had been a worthwhile investment.

Sidney was impressed. “So that’s how it’s done. I’ve learned something.”

Late that night, Tiffany yawned and headed for the bathroom. To avoid disturbing the nurse, she carefully made her way there and back. However, upon exiting, she tripped on a small step.

A sharp pain shot through her, sending her tumbling. "Oh, no! I'm going to land on my face!" she thought. Then, a gust of wind rushed past, followed by strong arms catching her.

A tall, handsome, cold, and reserved man stood before her. "Mr. Hampton? Why are you back? Didn't you say you were away on business for two weeks?"

A light tap on her head silenced her. "How many times must I tell you to call me Richard?"

Tiffany blinked, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. It was… embarrassing.

Ignoring the reprimand, she asked, “Why are you back?”

“That’s less important than hearing you say you missed me.” He chuckled, his coldness softening, his eyes filled with a hint of tenderness. Though teasing, his tone was affectionate.

“Do you want the truth?” Tiffany asked. “Honestly, I didn’t miss you.” Less than 24 hours had passed. What was there to miss? She'd been busy.

Before she could elaborate, Richard scooped her up. “Hey, you’re not going to drop me, are you?” she exclaimed.

“What if I do?” he responded calmly.

“Then I’ll make you regret it!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, just in case.

Richard laughed, gently placing her on the bed, handling her with the care one would give a precious artifact. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, gazing at the thick bandages on her foot.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Tiffany assured him, poking him lightly. “Thank you.” She knew he’d rushed back the moment he learned of her injury.