Clifford turned to Sprague, but Sprague just shook his head, just as confused.
They called Prescott in. Prescott didn’t dare hide anything from Clifford and Sprague–he knew Jonathan had gone to pick up Niamh.
Originally, Jonathan had ordered Prescott to fetch Niamh himself, but then he’d changed his mind at the last minute, and Prescott had no idea why.
“You’re telling me Jonathan went to get Niamh himself?” Sprague’s voice rose, disbelief clear in his tone.
To him, the whole thing was incredible–and more than a little ominous.
But Clifford saw things entirely differently. News that Jonathan had personally driven to pick up Niamh seemed to light a spark in his eyes.
“How long has Jonathan been gone?” Clifford asked.
Prescott hesitated, worry creasing his brow. Judging by the time, Jonathan should
have been back with Niamh long ago.
Suddenly, Clifford’s assistant came rushing over, panic written all over his face. Catching Clifford’s warning glare, however, he forced himself to look composed.
No matter what happened–even if the sky was falling–the Thomas Group had to keep up appearances in front of their clients.
Leaning in, the assistant whispered urgently in Clifford’s ear. Clifford’s face immediately changed.
At the hospital, Jonathan finally regained consciousness.
The first thing he saw were Clifford, Sprague, Marigold, Preston, and Marina, all gathered around his bed, eyes filled with a mixture of concern and relief,
This time, his memory hadn’t completely failed him. He remembered driving to pick up Niamh, remembered someone staging an accident, and remembered being stabbed the moment he got out of the car.
Jonathan blinked, his voice weak as he asked, “Where’s Niamh?”
“You wake up and the first thing you ask about is that trouble magnet?” Marigold
Chapter 414
snapped from the side, clearly annoyed. “If it weren’t for her, would you have gotten hurt like this?”
“It’s not like Nia was the one who stabbed Jonathan,” Clifford shot back, his tone firm. “If you want to blame someone, blame the attacker.”
“Besides,” Clifford continued, “if Nia hadn’t reacted so quickly and driven Jonathan to the hospital herself, who knows what would’ve happened? The doctor said it was only thanks to her that he made it in time. If she’d been any slower, Jonathan might have bled out.”
With Clifford standing up for Niamh, Marigold had no choice but to let it go.
Marina hovered quietly in the background, careful not to say a word. This situation could have been perfect for making waves, but with Clifford so protective of Niamh–and her own standing with Jonathan on shaky ground lately–she knew better than to draw attention to herself.
Jonathan was silent for a moment. Then he repeated, “Where’s Niamh?”
Sprague sighed, his expression troubled. He’d been unsettled ever since learning Jonathan had gone to pick up Niamh himself–and now, knowing Jonathan had taken a knife for her, he looked even more grim.
Sprague rarely agreed with Marigold, but when it came to calling Niamh a jinx, he had to admit she had a point.
“She’s out in the hallway,” Sprague said at last.
Jonathan’s eyes flickered open. For someone so badly injured, that sudden intensity was impossible to miss.
–
Out in the hallway, Niamh sat perfectly still, as if she were carved from stone. Maybe it was just the hush of the hospital, but she seemed to blend righ to the
silence.
She sat on the bench outside Jonathan’s room, hands tightly clasped in her lap.
It was a scene that pulled her back in time–to another day, years ago, when she’d waited exactly like this, perched outside a hospital room, anxious and alone, praying for Jonathan to wake up.
