"Are you alright? Were you hurt?"
Sebastian Prescott appeared at an unknown ti, holding Sienna Monroe’s waist tightly, one hand stroking her frail, wing-like back. His cool voice carried a distinct note of worry and tension.
Sienna was montarily stunned, eting his deep-set eyes. After a pause, she gently shook her head, "No..."
Before she could finish, her peripheral vision caught the fresh blood oozing from his arm, and she exclaid in surprise, "You’re hurt!"
"It’s nothing, just a scratch."
Upon learning she was fine, Sebastian’s voice softened, and he lightly patted her back.
The gesture was so subtle that Sienna, who was still in a tense state, didn’t notice this detail.
By the ti she realized, he had already let her go, his gaze dimming as he turned to look at the figure who had gotten up from the ground and discarded the knife as they walked away.
He didn’t give chase, instead pulling out his phone to dial a police officer’s number.
He had barely spoken a word into the phone before another slender figure had already approached Sienna.
"Sienna, are you hurt anywhere?"
Caleb Sinclair looked at her with concern and worry, attempting to touch her arm, but Sienna avoided him, leaving his hand awkwardly suspended in mid-air.
Yet his face displayed utmost concern.
He had hidden well the vengeful grievance and anger toward Sebastian in his eyes and chest.
Sienna coldly stared at the deceitful man in front of her.
They had known each other for over seven years, together for over six.
But this man had beco increasingly sinister, despicable, using every ans possible.
Now, the so-called "hero saving the beauty" was preempted by soone else.
He ended up losing out in his scheming.
What a joke!
However, if she were to expose him now, it would be difficult to explain how she knew.
There was no direct evidence to support this claim.
It wouldn’t hold.
She took a gentle breath, temporarily suppressing the anger of injustice in her heart.
She didn’t bother to engage with him, nor did she wish to waste words on him.
Expressionless, she looked at the wound on Sebastian’s arm, but due to the suit jacket covering, it was hard to see how deep the injury was.
She only saw that the sleeve of his dark grey suit jacket was almost completely soaked with blood.
Her face sank slightly, frowning, as she told him, "You need to go to the hospital to have that treated quickly. Don’t delay! Wait for , I’ll get the car."
With that, she was about to head to the parking lot to get the car.
Sebastian tily grabbed her hand, "Take my car, it’s just by the roadside, closer."
Sienna paused, feeling his slightly cool fingers warmly and dryly envelop hers.
eting his gaze, she replied a hesitant "Okay."
For a mont, she forgot to pull her hand back.
Throughout, Sebastian never spared a glance at Caleb Sinclair.
Whether out of indifference or considering him unthreatening, he openly led Sienna towards his car.
Caleb watched their tightly held hands, feeling a strong pang in his chest, his breath catching.
Even though the streetlight was dim, it felt dazzlingly bright for him.
He called out repeatedly, "Sienna," in a panicked rush, but whether too softly, it was blown away by the wind.
Sienna ignored him entirely, directly getting into Sebastian’s car.
Soon, the engine of a black Bentley broke the street’s silence, speeding away.
As the car departed, everything returned to calm.
Only the night breeze, carrying the fresh scent of roadside new leaves, swept across the street.
The rustling sounds were like an exquisite rhythm composing the Chapter of spring.
Caleb Sinclair stood there, staring blankly in the direction the Bentley disappeared, a handso face filled with surprise, confusion, and sorrow.
It was then overshadowed by a cloud of jealousy, resentnt, and unwillingness.
The one who should have saved Sienna and gotten hurt for her should have been him.
Why had it turned out to be Sebastian?
How did he appear out of nowhere?!
His ticulously crafted plan ended up serving soone else’s purposes.
Sienna wasn’t concerned about what Caleb was thinking. Though driving not too fast, it also wasn’t slow.
The hospital wasn’t far from the art gallery, roughly a twenty-minute drive, during which she made a call to Nora Joyce, instructing her on two matters.
She occasionally glanced at Sebastian’s arm; the bleeding hadn’t completely stopped, but it seed less severe than earlier.
She asked, worried, "How are you? Any signs of dizziness?"
Sebastian watched her tense jawline, knowing she feared him passing out from excessive blood loss.
His lips curled at an inappropriate mont, and he spoke, "No, don’t worry too much, just drive safely."
Sienna felt slightly reassured.
Realizing that being distracted while driving was unsafe, she earnestly nodded, "Alright, I understand."
Fortunately, the journey was smooth, taking just about sixteen or seventeen minutes to reach the hospital.
The two went straight to the ergency departnt.
This wasn’t their first visit to this hospital’s ergency departnt together.
The process was familiar.
Interestingly, the last ti was in the parking lot of Aethel Law, and this ti it was in the art gallery’s nearby parking lot.
Was this a coincidence or a poetic rhy?
In the observation room, following the doctor’s instructions, Sebastian took off his suit jacket. Unsure where to place it, Sienna reached out to take it.
He paused, then started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, the soft fabric sliding down his smooth shoulder blades.
The curves of his chest muscle, rising and falling with his breathing like mountains ticulously carved, and the slightly sharp outline of his abs were evident.
It was clear these were the results of consistent indoor training over the years.
Sienna tried to keep her eyes on the wound on his arm.
The cut was about six to seven centiters long, not deep, but definitely not shallow, explaining why there was so much blood initially.
After the doctor perford simple hemorrhage control asures, they said stitches were needed.
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