"Do you know who you're talking to?" Ryan Anderson was fuming, his chest tight with anger from being scolded by this little girl. His face was stern, the corners of his mouth trembling from rage.
Usually, when the girl argued with people, her words were sharp and fast, and no one had ever bested her except for Charles. Now, this random uncle came looking for trouble, so why should she hold back?
"What? You don't even know your own name? Expecting others to tell you?" Rosie Scott said mockingly as she slowly stood up from the hospital bed, looking down at the uncle at the bedside. In terms of height and aura, she lost nothing.
Charles lifted his eyelids to look at the big and small duo in front of him, finding it incredibly childish. He moved his wheelchair to grab the water and medicine placed at the bedside, handing them over where Rosie Scott could reach. It was the least he could do: "Take your medicine."
"I won't take it. I'm not sick."
"Better to take it. Otherwise, if you bite someone, you'll need a rabies shot." Ryan Anderson, a man past fifty, actually argued with a young girl. He ran out of things to say once the words left his mouth. It would be quite ungraceful if others found out.
"I won't take it. Leave the medicine for those who need it. If someone has to take it, it should be you, uncle. How old are you this year? From the looks of you, you're halfway to the grave."
"You little girl, not a single nice word out of your mouth. Charles, I will never agree to let a woman like her into the house."
Charles's dark eyes glanced sideways, placing the cup he held into the girl's hand. His voice was cold, clearly displeased, yet he sat up straight and spoke calmly: "Dad, my life is already like this, why do you still have to interfere?"
Upon hearing Charles's way of addressing this uncle, Rosie Scott gasped, then sat deflated on the bed, swallowing nervously and blinking at the furious uncle before her.
This was Charles Anderson's father?
The first time meeting him, she said he was halfway to the grave... from now on...
"I did this all for your own good. With a woman like her, I don't even understand what you see in her?"
"Even if you're partially paralyzed, with the Anderson Clan's money and power, wouldn't it be better to find a noblewoman to marry you? Instead, you..." Ryan Anderson's forehead veins bulged as he spoke, glaring at the girl on the bed, "you found some street-corner shrew."
Rosie Scott felt as if something invisible smacked her head when she heard the word 'shrew'. Her cheeks puffed up in anger, and she glared secretly at Ryan Anderson, then stared resentfully at Charles.
"Back then, you sent me to Anderson Castle because you thought having a disabled son was shameful, right? Since you chose to send me away, then don't meddle with me again." Though Charles seemed docile, an invincible backbone ran through him. Not even his own father could claim personal rights over him.
Noticing the girl's resentful gaze, Charles flattened his palm; a few pills lay there, conspicuously. He looked coldly at her, subtly reminding her once more to take her medicine.
The girl pursed her lips, without daring to speak much. Swallowing the medicine and drinking water in one go, even the sound of her swallowing was hushed, trying to minimize her presence to avoid being caught in the crossfire between these two titans.
Ryan Anderson was speechless for a long time, watching his son care so tenderly for this 'shrew', feeling even more troubled at heart.
"Fine, you just degrade yourself. I'll act as if I have no son like you." The uncle stormed out, not forgetting to glare one last time at the 'shrew' before leaving.
The cool hospital room light cast its glow on the man's icy face. The girl's eyes darted around, feeling that Charles was pricked by his father's words and emotions. Though he usually concealed them well, his current expressionless face seemed like anger.
"Charles, are you angry?" The girl leaned closer, her dark eyes almost probing into the man's.
Facing her inquisitive eyes, the man smiled gently and said, "No."
Rosie Scott squinted, pondering internally, still pretending?
"Oh? Not angry, huh? When Mr. Anderson asked me to take the medicine earlier, so considerate, this little girl was quite touched."
"If you're moved, why still call me Mr. Anderson?"
The girl propped both hands on the armrests of his wheelchair, leaning very close, close enough to smell the iodine on Charles's forehead wound. Her eyes sparkled with playfulness: "I didn't know you'd like me calling you husband so much."
Seeing the gleam in her eyes, her fingers drawing circles on his chest, Charles knew exactly what Rosie Scott was up to all this time. He glanced at his legs, his dark eyes chilled, capturing that mischievous hand.
"I understand you're a normal woman, but I am not a normal man. If you have needs, I don't mind if you keep pretty boys outside."
Rosie Scott shook off his hand: "Knowing my heart."
When the man wheeled himself to the door, a playful female voice sounded from behind: "Since Mr. Anderson has agreed, I guess I'll have to trouble Mr. Anderson to do this good deed to the end. If any scandal arises, please use your precious fingers to cover it up a bit for me."
Sitting on the hospital bed while saying this, the girl's heart was full of emotion, staring hard at the man's indifferent back. Before his slow answer came, the door was already shut.
"Well done, indeed worthy of Charles Anderson." His generosity, saying 'I don't mind if you keep pretty boys outside', was truly ridiculous. He didn't mind, but I still wanted a good reputation.
If he weren't so adamant about keeping me around, I wouldn't be happy to spend every day with someone in a wheelchair.
Thinking about it made her angry, and as anger welled up, Rosie Scott concocted a little scheme, her brows slowly relaxed, and a sinister smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.
At midnight.
The girl sneaked out of the ward, swiped a set of nurse uniforms, donned a mask covering most of her face, then pushed a cart towards Charles's ward; as she approached, she noticed a few stern-faced bodyguards standing at the door. Tall, strong, and well-built.
Ryan Anderson said he wouldn't care for Charles, yet he still placed bodyguards around him.
This heavy fatherly love.
Rosie Scott lowered her head, pushing the cart closer. The bodyguards blocked her way at once: "The medication was changed thirty minutes ago, changing again now?"
"Mr. Anderson has special physical conditions, not only external injuries but also old ones that haven't healed and need treatment." The girl lowered her voice, trying not to arouse suspicion, even as her palms sweated heavily at the moment.
The bodyguards stared at her for a long while without speaking, checking the items in the cart. Just as the girl grew increasingly anxious, the bodyguards stepped aside.
Rosie Scott breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the cart into the ward.
A man lay quietly on the hospital bed. As he lightly opened his eyes at the sound, he saw a female nurse approaching, holding a needle over 10 cm long.