Chapter 83: Chapter 95: A Bottle of Safflower Oil (4) Chapter 83: Chapter 95: A Bottle of Safflower Oil (4) Her genuine reaction made Percy Stanton feel a bit relieved, and he couldn’t help but soften as well, causing a tender and affectionate atmosphere to rise in the room.
Isabel Smith was no longer in pain, but fatigue took over. Keeping her head up, she struggled on, praying in her heart for Percy to finish quickly and then leave.
After innurable prayers, Percy grunted and finally stopped.
Only then did Isabel breathe a sigh of relief, her whole body limply collapsing onto the bed, not wanting to move at all.
Percy stayed on top of her for a while before he regained his breath and moved off of her.
This ti, Isabel didn’t fall into unconsciousness. Sensing his movents, she opened her eyes just in ti to see Percy’s gaze fall on her feet again. She mustered the strength to hook the quilt and covered herself with it.
Percy’s gaze darkened, and he coldly got out of bed, picked up his clothes, and quickly put them on.
Isabel propped herself up slightly and watched Percy, asking, “Are you leaving?”
Percy didn’t even look at Isabel. He swiftly fastened the buttons of his shirt, then grabbed the suit jacket he wore to the wine party earlier that night, turned around, and left.
Actually, deep down Isabel had been hoping Percy would leave quickly. As soon as his footsteps retreated, she quickly threw back the quilt and looked at her own feet.
Her forceful movents caused a sudden pain in her body that she had just shared with Percy. Cursing in pain, she carefully bent down and hugged her feet, examining them under the bright bedroom lamp light.
Her big toe looked like a atbun at this point, swollen beyond recognition. The nail bed was filled with bruising, tinged purple, and appeared rather appalling.
Isabel stretched out her hand and gently rubbed it, but was t with a heart-wrenching pain. Startled, she withdrew her hand, stared at her injured toe for a while, and thought to herself that she really needed to see a doctor at the hospital tomorrow.
Then, exhausted, she let go of her foot, lay back down on the bed, stared at the ceiling, pondered what she needed to prepare for her return to the Smith Family ho in two days, and finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.
…
Percy took the elevator downstairs and headed for the parking lot.
It was already one o’clock in the morning, and the streets were deserted. Only rows of lamp lights flickered, making it feel sowhat desolate. Percy parked the car on the roadside, then took out his mobile phone and made a call.
After the phone rang for quite a while, a female voice finally picked up, sounding soft, pleasant, and slightly sleepy, “Thomas Quincy, who’s calling?”
“Marion Hancock is calling.” A gentle male voice followed.
“What ti is it?” The female voice spoke anoth.er sentence, sounding sowhat concerned as if checking the ti, “It’s already one o’clock in the morning. Why aren’t you asleep? Why are you calling so late? Is Raymond sick?”
“You sleep, I’ll go ask him. Be good.” The male voice indulgently coaxed the female voice’s owner, and Percy heard the rustling sound from the phone, like the lifting of a quilt and getting out of bed. After a while, Percy heard the sound of a door being pushed and pulled, and then Thomas Quincy’s familiar and cheerful voice in his ear, “Marion, why are you calling so late? Is sothing wrong with Raymond?”
As a matter of fact, Percy’s last na followed that of his mother, Emily Stanton, which symbolized his father, Quinton Thompson’s deep love and limitless adoration for her.
Having only one character, the boy’s nickna was Marion Hancock, because his father, Quinton Thompson, didn’t give him a pet na. However, his older sister, Charlotte Thompson, was used to calling him Little Marion Hancock.
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