Chapter 284: 284. Murder of the Ex-Husband_1 Chapter 284: 284. Murder of the Ex-Husband_1 Fortunately, this hotel was well-equipped, and even the first-aid kit was stocked with various ergency items. After Elly Campbell found what she needed, she quickly walked up to Adam Jones to dress his wound.
“Take your hand away.”
She spoke in a low voice, and Adam cooperatively let go of his hand. The sight of the wound and the fresh red blood stabbing fiercely at Elly’s eyes made her involuntarily gasp with a shock of cold air.
There was a large gash on his forehead, and dressing it wasn’t enough—it needed stitches.
Elly looked at him, her voice trembling more than she herself realized.
“Okay.”
Adam responded without a hint of hesitation, his dark eyes like a deep pool that seed to suck Elly in, and as if with a magical power, instantly cald her down.
“You do it, just a few stitches, no problem for Dr. Campbell, right?”
Adam said, the corners of his lips lifting.
Elly didn’t answer, but turned back to the dicine box to get the surgical needle and thread, and after disinfecting his wound, she said to Adam, “We don’t have anesthetic, you’ll have to bear with it.”
“Okay.”
Elly held the needle, her movents on the operating table as skilled as they had been when she was just a fresh graduate doing her internship, yet now she felt as if she was even worse than during her internship.
The mont the tip of the needle touched his skin, her hand was shaking uncontrollably.
“Elly?”
Seeing that Elly didn’t make a stitch, Adam looked at her and seeing the tense look in her eyes, he chuckled softly and called out to her.
Elly’s gaze slowly shifted to him, she pursed her lips and asked, “Are you scared?”
The smile on Adam’s face stiffened and then he laughed, “Are you scared?”
His hand, still stained with blood, grasped hers that held the needle, his voice dropping a few notches, “Would a surgeon who can bring soone back from the brink of death be afraid of sothing as minor as stitching up a wound?”
His gaze was as sharp as a blade, piercing straight into Elly’s eyes, into her heart, it was like his sticky palm clung to her hand, and like sothing was sticking to his own heart as well.
“Elly, you’re worried about .”
Adam dispensed with the smile in his eyes, his gaze deep and sharp as he stared at Elly’s face and spoke.
He was not asking her a question, but stating a fact with great certainty.
Elly was startled by his words, her hand shaking violently with the needle, and eting Adam’s affirmative dark eyes, she felt an inexplicable mix of anger and embarrassnt.
“If you’re not afraid, then I won’t be polite.”
As soon as the words were spoken, she unhesitatingly drove the needle into the flesh of his forehead, catching Adam, who was not at all prepared, with a pain that made him suck in a breath of cold air.
“Elly, are you trying to murder your own husband?”
“President Jones is mistaken, it’s at most attempted murder of an ex-husband.”
Perhaps it was Adam’s words that spurred her, but Elly’s stitching beca much more adept.
Adam, hearing her call him President Jones again, naturally thought of the mont earlier in the underground garage when she instinctively called out his na, the tension, the panic, those long-lost feelings that seed to have burst forth in that mont.
“Downstairs just now, you kept calling Adam.”
His voice unexpectedly took on a rasp, causing Elly, bent over stitching his wound, to feel a jolt at the tip of her heart.
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