"I'm sure I don't know anyone you know," Claire Sinclair said with conviction.
She and Adrian Quincy were from two completely different worlds—like a Prince and a commoner. Aside from her sister, their lives had never intersected, so she couldn't believe she would know anyone he did.
Adrian Quincy didn't answer, simply closing his eyes and feigning sleep.
'This guy. So what if he's handsome?'
Her gaze inadvertently fell upon a red mark on the skin peeking out from his collar. It looked like a gash from a knife, and a very recent one at that.
Unfortunately, only a small part of the wound was visible, so she couldn't tell how serious it was.
'With so many bodyguards around him, how did he get hurt?'
Just as she was pondering this, the man suddenly spoke. "When we get there, watch what you say and do. What I say, goes. Don't speak out of turn."
"Fine," Claire Sinclair readily agreed. She doubted she and this mysterious person he mentioned would have anything to talk about anyway.
Silence fell between them. About fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up to a hospital entrance.
Adrian Quincy got out of the car, headed straight into the inpatient building, and stepped into an elevator.
The elevator shot up to the 11th floor. Claire Sinclair followed without a word, telling herself she was just an unimportant tagalong. She was, after all, still waiting to go back and get her divorce.
Two men in black suits stood guard outside Room 1101.
Seeing Adrian Quincy, they greeted him in unison, "Young Master Quincy."
Adrian Quincy nodded and led the way into the room.
Claire Sinclair followed him inside. When she saw the old man lying in the bed, her eyes widened in astonishment.
'Isn't that Grandpa White-beard?'
Five years ago, when her own grandmother was seriously ill in the hospital, no one else in the family had been willing to take care of her. Only Claire Sinclair had diligently made the trip to the hospital every day.
Back then, Grandpa White-beard had been in the same hospital, apparently for a broken leg, but he had no family to look after him either.
Claire had felt sorry for the lonely old man, so she started bringing an extra meal to the hospital for him every day.
Over time, the two had become fast friends, striking up a friendship that transcended their age difference.
But then one day, Grandpa White-beard was suddenly discharged from the hospital without so much as a goodbye. From that day on, she had never seen him again.
The old man's hair was all gone now, but the same wispy white beard he'd had five years ago still hung from his chin. That was why she called him Grandpa White-beard; she never actually knew his real name.
'Judging by the situation, Grandpa White-beard must be related to Adrian Quincy...'
Sure enough, Adrian Quincy walked up to the old man, his expression full of respect. "Grandpa, I've brought Quinn."
'Quinn?'
Claire Sinclair's eyebrow twitched. 'This guy is actually passing me off as my sister to fool Grandpa White-beard! He's gone too far!'
'Whatever. I promised I wouldn't speak out of turn. Let him say what he wants. It has nothing to do with me anyway.'
The old man could barely keep his eyes open, and his breathing was incredibly faint. He struggled to turn his head toward the girl dressed in pink and white, but he couldn't make out her features clearly.
"Quinn, come a little closer... Grandpa can't see you clearly..."
Claire had no intention of going over, but seeing the old man looking so frail, she couldn't bear to refuse. She walked over and drew near the bed.
The old man could finally make out the girl's face, and his lips curved into a smile. "Quinn, Grandpa finally gets to see you."
Seeing the old man's gaunt face, Claire's heart ached. She sat down on the edge of the bed instinctively and took his age-spotted hand in hers. "Grandpa, what happened to you?"
The old man's weathered face made her think of her own grandmother just before she passed away, and an immense panic began to well up inside her.
Death was a terrifying thing. She was so afraid of losing the people she loved.