Chapter 47: Lines Crossed
Wyatt had Morgan come take care of Madam Johnson—which meant he planned to stay and watch over Yunice himself. Jordan figured it out and made a quick call, ordering someone to drag Morgan out of the billiards hall and bring him over. Morgan had a close-cropped haircut, dyed a reddish-brown, and stood slouched in Madam Johnson’s hospital room like he owned the place. He didn’t look like a privileged heir—more like a thug. Just a few days ago, he’d been arrested for hitting a woman and got a beating from his dad for it. Still bitter, he’d been hiding out in the pool hall ever since. Now that he heard his grandmother was stable, he felt emboldened again. Looking for trouble, he said, “Where’s Wyatt? Isn’t he the one who loves pretending to be the devoted grandson? Finally couldn’t keep up the act?”
Jordan told him plainly, “Wyatt’s with Ms. Saunders.”
Morgan’s face darkened. “Which Ms. Saunders?”
He knew the Saunders family had two daughters—one a golden girl, the other a certified lunatic. What pissed him off most was that his idiotic parents had actually arranged for him to marry the lunatic. Jordan didn’t sugarcoat it. “The one they told you about. She’s the one who saved Madam Johnson.”
“Huh?” Morgan let out a laugh so loud he nearly doubled over. “You expect me to believe a nutcase saved someone? That’s the best joke I’ve heard all year.”
Jordan was about to explain that Yunice wasn’t crazy anymore, but Morgan suddenly cut him off with a manic glint in his eye. “Wait…so Wyatt ditched my grandma to take care of her?”
“How precious. How rare.” Morgan’s expression twisted. “Hasn’t Wyatt sworn off women ever since he busted his leg? Unless…don’t tell me he’s actually fallen for that little nutjob? Hahaha!”
Jordan rolled his eyes. No point arguing with this rabid dog. He had no idea why Wyatt bothered calling someone like Morgan in the first place.
Yunice woke not long after her fever broke. Her eyelids fluttered open, and the swollen pain in her cheek made itself known. Only then did she remember—Paul had hit her. Looking around, she caught sight of Wyatt sitting across from her and froze. He didn’t move. “You want water?”
Yunice slowly propped herself up and nodded. After a high fever, she was parched. Wyatt stood and went to pour her a glass. Seeing his back turned, Yunice let out a breath. When she first opened her eyes, it felt like he’d been staring straight at her face—and it made her skin crawl. She didn’t even think she was pretty. Was West’s rade that nicka?
Paul had worn a diamond ring. When his fist hit, the ring acted like a blade. A four-centimeter cut ran across Yunice’s face—deep and ugly. No one could take that easily.
“Regretting it?” Wyatt held out the glass, watching her.
If she had known she’d be disfigured, would she still have jumped in to shield him? A woman’s face was everything. Yunice was ambitious—how could she show her face now? He was certain she’d break down, cry, maybe even throw something. But she didn’t. She set down the mirror and took the glass from him, drinking slowly. Wyatt found himself watching her more closely.
Yunice cradled the glass in both hands and looked up. “The stitches are clean. If I make the right ointment, it shouldn’t scar. You don’t need to feel guilty.”
Wyatt’s gaze wavered, then turned mocking. “Now you’re comforting me?”
“If I hadn’t stepped in, Paul would’ve hit the sphenopalatine foramen near your temple. That could’ve killed you,” Yunice said calmly. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.”
For a second, something inside Wyatt shifted. But he hid it well, like always. Yunice realized how that must’ve sounded and added, “Madam Johnson is still recovering. If something happened to you, it could shock her. That would make all my efforts pointless.”
Now that sounded more like her. Wyatt scoffed. That explanation made more sense. Yunice went back to sipping her water, little by little. She knew full well you weren’t supposed to drink plain water after dehydration. It needed salt or sugar—something to replenish electrolytes. But she didn’t want to bother Wyatt, so this was the best she could manage to wet her lips. Steam rose from the cup, dampening her lowered lashes. Wyatt looked down at her, gaze tracing from the slope of her nose to her mouth. Her lips were full and pink, glistening from the heat. The water was still warm. Yunice blew on it gently, lips parting ever so slightly.