Chapter 324
She brought McNeil a late-night snack, and just as she was about to leave, he suddenly called her back.
“Have you fallen for someone lately?”
“…What?”
Xenia nearly jumped. How could McNeil possibly know about that?
He seemed to answer his own question, rubbing his brow in irritation. “Never mind. Go get some sleep.”
He stubbed out his cigarette, but just then his phone rang.
At this hour? Ms. Nelson was calling.
McNeil hesitated, not wanting to answer, but worried she’d only be more persistent if he ignored her.
“What is it?”
“Get to the hospital. Paul got drunk at a bar and had to be taken in. God knows which jerk kept pouring drinks down his throat-he almost ended up with a stomach bleed.”
McNeil sounded unconcerned. “He drank himself into the ER? Good. Maybe he’ll finally learn his lesson.”
There was a stunned silence on the line before Madonna snapped, “Is that how you talk about your family? I asked you to come check on your cousin, not celebrate his misfortune!”
She hung up in a huff. McNeil tossed his phone onto the couch, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, his eyes dark and inscrutable.
He sat downstairs in the breeze until he felt clear-headed, then called for Xenia to fetch his coat. Slipping it on, he headed to the garage, got into his SUV, and drove to the hospital.
The smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the hospital corridors. Madonna, Fitch Nelson, and Mrs. Nelson were already there.
Mrs. Nelson was sobbing, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Six people out drinking, and this is what happens. The doctor said if we’d waited any longer, his stomach would have ruptured. Who could hate Paul enough to do this to him?”
Madonna sat beside her, trying to calm her down. Paul had just come out of the emergency room-he was stable now.
Fitch stood quietly with a stormy look, unable to hide how worried he was for his son.
“He never takes anything seriously. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
McNeil shot Paul a cold glance. Paul was still unconscious, an IV drip running into his hand.
Madonna glared at McNeil. “You’re supposed to be here to help look after your cousin, not stand around like you’re watching a show!”
McNeil showed not a shred of sympathy, his gaze lingering on Paul.
The young man’s face was pale, his eyes closed, features delicate and almost beautiful—now, even more striking in his vulnerability.
McNeil let out a cold snort. “And Victoria likes this kind of thing?”
What else did Paul have going for him besides youth and a pretty face? Was he better in bed or something? Honestly, he should just ruin Paul himself.
Madonna didn’t catch that, frowning at McNeil. “What are you mumbling about? Are you out of your mind? We bring you here to see Paul and you start in about Victoria?”
Mrs. Nelson sobbed, “Don’t blame McNeil, he’s right.”
Then she rounded on Fitch. “I told you, you should’ve found him a place in the family business, but you let him run wild with those car-racing lunatics. Now look what’s happened. If anything happens to my son, I can’t go on. You can just find yourself a new wife!”
Fitch was so frustrated he looked ready to slam his head against the wall, but didn’t dare say a word.
Meanwhile, back at the villa-
Victoria woke up to a chaotic mess. Her clothes were scattered everywhere.
She was naked beneath the covers, her head pounding as if someone was hammering inside her skull, her memory a hazy blur.
Last night, she remembered drinking with Paul and the others. Then someone came and took her away, but after that-nothing.
The only thing she remembered clearly was telling McNeil she didn’t like him anymore.
But looking at the disaster in her room, she didn’t have the courage to dwell on it. Whatever happened last night, it must have been wild.
Rubbing her aching head, Victoria suddenly thought of Paul. What happened to him? Why was it McNeil who brought her home?
She grabbed her phone and dialed Paul.
Back in the hospital room, Mrs. Nelson was still scolding Fitch when Paul’s phone started ringing. Madonna picked it up without thinking.
The caller ID read “Rabbit.” Before Madonna could answer, McNeil snatched the phone from her. Seeing the name, he suppressed a sudden, murderous urge and hung up.
“Hey! Was that one of Paul’s friends?” Madonna asked, growing more suspicious of her son.
“Spam call,” McNeil replied coolly. “There’s been a lot of them lately.”
“Give it here, let me see.”
McNeil just slipped the phone into his pocket. “It’s a guy’s phone-best you don’t go snooping through it. I’ll hold onto it for Paul, give it back when he wakes up.”
He glanced at the family. “Uncle, Aunt, I just remembered I’ve got something to handle at work. I’ll come back to check on Paul later.”
“McNeil, don’t you dare walk away-” Madonna started.
Mrs. Nelson pulled her back. “Let him go, Madonna. If he’s busy, let him go. Paul’s out of danger anyway.”
With Paul’s phone in hand, McNeil walked out through the hospital doors. He pulled the phone out, tossed it onto the pavement.
Getting into his car, he started the engine. With a calculated turn of the wheel, he drove straight over Paul’s phone, crushing it without a second glance.
As he headed home, McNeil never once looked back at the broken mess that used to be Paul’s phone.