Jonathan woke up to find himself lying in a hospital bed.
His memories were a mess–fragmented, with nothing but blank spaces no matter how hard he tried to recall.
How did he end up here?
He had no idea.
There was simply nothing–just a void.
The last thing he remembered was last night: following Niamh’s car through the city, tracking her every turn, right up until she got into Elmer’s ride.
His stomach had been killing him; he’d doubled over the steering wheel, clutching his gut.
Did he pass out from the pain, or just drift off to sleep? Jonathan couldn’t say.
All night, he’d stayed in his car, parked not far from Niamh’s home.
He barely managed to lift his eyelids.
The hospital room door opened with a soft knock. A nurse walked in.
“Excuse me…” Jonathan’s voice came out so weak it startled him.
“Who brought me here?”
The nurse tilted her head, thinking for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure. She just said she was passing by and didn’t know you…”
“Passing by…”
Jonathan frowned, pressing further, “Was it a man or a woman?”
The nurse hesitated. “It… it was a man.”
The faint hope in Jonathan’s eyes vanished; his frown deepened.
“Alright. Thank you.”
After the nurse left, Jonathan closed his eyes again. He couldn’t even b name the emotion twisting inside him.
n to
Not long after, the door opened again. This time it was Prescott, accompanied by a few bodyguards and house staff.
1/3
19:52
“How did you know I was here?” Jonathan asked, puzzled.
“The hospital called me,” Prescott replied, catching the disappointment flickering across Jonathan’s face.
“How did they even get your number?”
“That I don’t know.”
Prescott shook his head, and Jonathan’s brow furrowed even more, his face creasing like a crumpled piece of paper.
Prescott didn’t ask why Jonathan had been hospitalized. The reason didn’t matter to him.
What mattered was that Jonathan recovered as soon as possible.
Jonathan wasn’t just suffering from a stomach problem–he’d caught a nasty cold as well. With the flu making the rounds lately, it was lucky he’d been brought in when he was; otherwise, things could have gotten much worse.
He lay back, eyes closed, trying to rest. Prescott soon returned with a mug of herbal medicine–a familiar old recipe.
But the taste was different.
Jonathan took a sip, grimaced, and put the cup
down.
“Mr. Thomas, is there something wrong with the medicine?” Prescott asked.
“It’s bitter…”
Prescott paused. Herbal medicine was always bitter, but Jonathan had never complained before.
Why did it taste so much worse today? Jonathan couldn’t say.
“Oh, Prescott–look into something for me, will you?”
“Yes, Mr. Thomas?”
“Those thugs from last time-”
Jonathan didn’t need to finish his thought.
“I understand.”
That was what Prescott was good at–he never needed Jonathan to spell things
out.
19:52 0
Chapter 397
After Prescott left, Jonathan forced himself to finish the whole cup of herbal
medicine.
It really was much more bitter than usual.
Outside, heavy snow was falling.
The second snowstorm of the season was fiercer than the first–thicker, faster.
When Niamh arrived by taxi at the BMW dealership, she could see Elmer waiting outside from a distance.
He was dressed in a long white wool coat, snow piled on his hair and shoulders, making him look almost like a snowman–soft, white, and perfectly still.
His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he stood ramrod straight, not moving an inch.
Niamh couldn’t help but laugh. She hurried out of the cab and jogged over to him.
“I’m so sorry, I’m late!”
