Chapter 207: Oscar Was Seriously Wounded

Hannah blinked, then turned to Theodore. "You don't know her?"

"She's a little-known star. Why would I know her?" Theodore retorted.

Their relationship in this life would begin because of her. Hannah felt a pang of guilt for Little Bunny.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Theodore asked, feeling uneasy under her gaze.

"Nothing," Hannah replied, shaking off her thoughts. "It's been a long day. Let's go home."

"Right. You should have said that sooner," Theodore said, glancing at Oscar and muttering, "Otherwise, someone's going to be a dead man."

Hannah was confused. Theodore didn't explain, and Oscar, naturally, couldn't. They left the Light Building together—Jimmy driving, Theodore in the passenger seat, Oscar and Hannah in the back.

The car ride was quiet.

"How about we get dinner? My treat," Hannah suggested, feeling she should thank them for their company, though they hadn't really done anything but goof off all day.

"No, thanks," Theodore said bluntly. "We need to get back; someone could die."

Hannah frowned, puzzled by his behavior. Silence fell again.

At the villa, Hannah and Oscar exited the car. Theodore rolled down his window. "Hannah, go easy on him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but life is more important."

Hannah stared, bewildered by his cryptic words. Oscar ignored him, taking Hannah's hand and entering the villa.

"Master Oscar, you're home," Max greeted warmly.

"Call Donald."

"What's wrong, Oscar?" Max's concern was immediate. Hannah sensed something was amiss.

"Minor wounds," Oscar said lightly.

Hannah's understanding dawned. Oscar was wounded.

"Don't worry, I won't die," Oscar said, noticing her expression. "Just help me upstairs." He leaned heavily on her.

Hannah, nearly collapsing under his weight, murmured a quiet complaint about his heaviness, but she helped him upstairs and onto the bed. He looked deathly pale. Where was he wounded? She felt guilty for not noticing sooner.

"I won't die, I promise," he whispered weakly.

"What happened?" Hannah asked.

"Nothing much."

"Oscar…"

"I need a nap. Be quiet," he commanded, his voice weak.

Hannah held her questions, remaining silent as he closed his eyes and seemed to fall into a deep sleep. She stayed with him.

A man, presumably Donald, entered. He looked to be in his forties, wearing glasses, and carried a sophisticated medical kit. He went straight to Oscar. "Gunshot wound?"

"Mm," Oscar murmured, eyes closed.

Hannah was shocked. Shot?

"Where?" Donald asked, seemingly accustomed to such injuries.

"Near the heart."

"Bullet removed?" Donald asked, removing Oscar's shirt. The wound, wrapped in gauze, was a bloody mess. Hannah recoiled in fear.

"Leave," Oscar said abruptly, seeing Hannah's reaction as Donald prepared to remove the gauze.

Stunned, Hannah met his gaze, unsure what to say.

"Go eat something. Bring me soup later," he instructed.

She knew he didn't want her to see him like this, that he wasn't ready to explain. She left.

In the room, Donald cleaned the inflamed wound. "How did this happen?"

"Carelessness," Oscar said, wincing.

"Caught?"

"Almost," Oscar answered through gritted teeth.

"You're usually so careful," Donald said.

Oscar clutched the sheet, enduring the pain. "You'd be dead if it was an inch closer," Donald commented. Oscar's lips were pale; sweat beaded on his brow.

"Be more careful," Donald advised, not pressing for details. His concern was Oscar's health; he couldn't afford to lose him.

Silence filled the room. Eventually, Donald finished dressing the wound.

"Anti-inflammatory later, if infection sets in," Donald said.

Oscar nodded faintly. Donald began packing up. "Shall I tell Mrs. Wells?"

"Later," Oscar said, his voice low and soft.

Donald sat beside him. "I hear you and Hannah are quite the loving couple."

Oscar remained silent.

"Helen of Troy," Donald chuckled. "Women have played a significant role in the downfall of empires."

Oscar's eyes flickered open. "They sent you?"

He looked much better, concealing his pain and emotions with practiced ease.

"Yes," Donald admitted.

"Tell them they're overthinking it," Oscar said, his voice regaining its usual composure.

"Right," Donald agreed. "Ready for visitors?"

"You can go too."

Donald, accustomed to Oscar's detachment, shrugged and left, medical kit in hand. Hannah was waiting outside with the soup.