Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 108: Chapter 108

A flash of disappointment crossed Lorenzo's eyes as he forced a wry smile, shook his head, and rose to his feet. "Eugene, I'm heading out."
Eugene arched an eyebrow, a rare glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. "What? You're leaving before Lorraine even gets back?"
Lorenzo pointed at the doorway, where Queenie's elegant and poised figure had just appeared. With a shrug and a playful grin, he said, "Isn't someone here to keep you company?"
The woman who entered was breathtakingly beautiful, with delicate, picture-perfect features and cascading curls falling over her shoulders. Dressed in a pristine white Chanel suit, she exuded an aura of icy elegance and unshakable authority.
A squad of black-suited bodyguards followed closely behind her—each powerfully built and expertly trained, forming an impenetrable security detail around Queenie.
Queenie strode in on her stilettos, casting Lorenzo a playful glance. "What, you're leaving the moment I walk in? What's that supposed to mean?"
Lorenzo grinned and shrugged, saying, "You're not here for me. I'm not about to play third wheel. I'll get going—my patients are probably missing me way more than you two ever would."
With a chuckle still on his lips, Lorenzo reached the doorway, gave them a casual backward wave, and was gone.
Silence fell over the room again. Queenie turned to her bodyguards, her tone crisp. "All of you, dismissed. Wait downstairs."
"Yes, Ms. Godfrey," the bodyguards replied in perfect unison, bowing before filing out with military precision.
Queenie pulled the hospital door shut behind her. Her exquisitely made-up eyes flickered with a fleeting trace of heartache as they fell upon Eugene lying in the hospital bed.
Queenie settled into the chair with composed elegance, leisurely studying Eugene's swollen yet handsome face. Arching an eyebrow, she remarked, "I never imagined you'd go this far for that woman. Going back to forbidden places? Eating what you know you shouldn't?"
Eugene said lightly, "So, are you here to scold me?"
Eugene knew Queenie still remembered what had happened on the island, but he couldn't care less. He tilted his head to glance at the hospital room door, then subtly averted his gaze, leaving her question unanswered.
Queenie said, "After all I've done for you, this is how you repay me?"
Lorraine froze at the doorway to the hospital room when she heard the accusatory tone. She set the thermos down in the corner and stood by the doorway, hesitating whether to go in.
The voice was unmistakable—so clear and familiar. Yet unlike the cold indifference Queenie always showed her, this time it carried an unexpected softness, a gentle, feminine quality she'd never heard from Queenie before.
Still, to her ears, that voice remained as commanding as ever. Lorraine thought, 'That's Queenie's voice—the mysterious woman from the last yacht incident, the one who shares such an intimate bond with Eugene. But what's she doing here?'
Just as Lorraine was lost in her tangled thoughts, voices drifted out from the hospital room again.
"Why did you move against the Shaws? Didn't I tell you we still need them?" Queenie's voice dripped with displeasure. "Was this just to avenge Lorraine? What's so special about her? She's utterly useless—nothing but dead weight dragging you down."
"This was my decision alone. It doesn't concern anyone else," Eugene said. His voice carried none of its usual chills; instead, there was a rare warmth to it. Hearing this, Lorraine felt a faint ache in her heart.
But to Queenie, those words weren't just bittersweet—they sparked outright fury.
"You say this concerns no one else? So, your decisions have nothing to do with me? I'm the one who bears the brunt of your choices. We've always been bound together. Need I remind you what binds us?"
Queenie sat ramrod straight in her chair, her piercing gaze fixed on Eugene, radiating unmistakable disapproval.
"Why are you getting so worked up?" Eugene's voice was cool, yet every word was crystal clear.
Queenie snapped, "How could I not be upset? Have you ever thought about what we mean to each other? What exactly is Lorraine to you? Did you even consider my feelings? I have feelings too, you know. I can get hurt just like anyone else."
Lorraine stood frozen outside the door, her mind reeling with unease. She wondered what exactly their relationship was and why Eugene would put up with her behavior like this.
The more she thought about it, the heavier her heart grew. Suddenly, she found myself not even wanting to know the truth. Their conversation left her completely dazed. She had no idea what to do next.
She'd been hesitating about whether to go in, but now Lorraine felt there was no need—she was just an unwanted third wheel.
Lorraine instinctively took a step back and accidentally bumped into a nurse. Thankfully, the nurse caught her arm—otherwise, she would have fallen flat.
"Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry," Lorraine stammered, her soft, apologetic voice drifting into the hospital room.
Her voice drifted into the hospital room. Eugene and Queenie exchanged a knowing glance.
Queenie watched as a chill crept into Eugene's eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line—her disapproval couldn't have been clearer.
Lorraine assumed no one in the ward had noticed her. Seeing that the nurse was fine, she figured it was a good time to quietly slip away. She couldn't bring herself to go into the ward. She thought she should pretend she didn't hear anything.
Eugene fixed his gaze on the doorway. When several seconds passed without any sign of Lorraine, his well-defined brows furrowed slightly and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Lorraine, get in here."
Lorraine had already two steps away when she froze mid-step, her foot hovering uncertainly. Slowly, she turned around, clenching her small fists, clearly reluctant to go back in.
Lorraine was biting her lip, trying to steel herself, when Eugene's deep, slightly cool voice called out, "Hurry up. My face hurts. I need some water."
Eugene knew Lorraine all too well—if he didn't exaggerate his condition, she would probably dawdle at the door until nightfall.
The moment Lorraine realized Eugene's allergic reaction was her fault, all her worries and hesitation melted away. Nothing else mattered—she was filled with nothing but overwhelming concern for him.
Lorraine pressed her lips together, picked up the thermos from the corner, and hurried into the room. The ward was deathly quiet. Lorraine hadn't misheard. There stood Queenie: breathtakingly beautiful, with an icy, commanding presence.
The moment Lorraine stepped inside, she instantly felt like an unwelcome intruder. An oppressive silence fell over the room—neither Eugene nor Queenie said a word.
She placed the thermos next to the bedside table, reached for a glass, poured in a little hot water, gave it a quick swirl to rinse it out, and emptied the water into the nearby trash bin.
Her movements were slow and hesitant, almost timid, which made Eugene frown deeply. The moment Lorraine stepped into the ward, both Eugene and Queenie's gazes locked onto her. While Eugene's eyes held unmistakable tenderness, Queenie's were anything but gentle.
Queenie's dagger-like glare bore into Lorraine, making her skin crawl with unease. Every inch of her body tensed under that withering scrutiny.
Suddenly, Lorraine's grip faltered—the thermos tipped, sending scalding water spilling over the rim of the glass and splashing onto the back of her hand. Lorraine gasped sharply as pain shot through her hand.
In an instant, the cup slipped from Lorraine's hand. Eugene instinctively snatched the thermos from her other hand, set it aside, and pulled her close in one swift motion. He said urgently, "Let me see that. Nurse, quick—get some burn ointment!"
Queenie froze, the last shred of composure in her eyes rapidly giving way to fury. She glared at Lorraine as if she wanted to tear her apart, her exquisite face twisted with barely contained rage.
'Why does Eugene treat her so well?' Queenie thought furiously. Clenching her fists until her knuckles whitened, she pressed her lips into a hard line. In one swift motion, she shot up from her chair and stormed out, her face set in icy fury.
Eugene was turning into a complete stranger to her, and she wouldn't let that happen.
The hospital room door slammed shut with a heavy thud, sending a sudden gust of wind through the doorway. Startled, Lorraine flinched and quickly tried to pull her hand free from Eugene's grasp, but his grip remained firm.
Startled, Lorraine quickly turned around, only to find that the chair by the hospital bed was already empty—Queenie was gone. The sharp click-clack of Queenie's heels grew fainter down the hallway, eventually fading into silence. Lorraine was confused.
"What are you looking at?" Eugene kept hold of Lorraine's wrist, his gaze fixed on her injury, appearing completely oblivious to Queenie's departure.
Lorraine lifted her uninjured hand and gestured hesitantly toward the door. "Ms. Godfrey—"
"Don't mind her. That's just Queenie being Queenie—comes and goes like the wind, with her unpredictable moods. She'll get over it soon enough."
Eugene didn't think much of what he'd said—just a few simple truths, as far as he was concerned. But to Lorraine, those words carried different meanings. Lorraine lowered her lashes to veil the pain in her eyes, though her heart churned with turbulent anguish.
Lorraine didn't expect Eugene to understand Queenie this well.
The nurse quickly returned with the ointment, gauze, and medical bandages, respectfully placing them on the bedside table in front of Eugene. Turning to Lorraine, she asked gently, "Miss, would you like me to dress that wound for you?"
"No need. You may leave." Before Lorraine could respond, Eugene dismissed the nurse with a wave, let go of her hand, and reached for the ointment.
His other hand was still attached to the IV drip, making it awkward to hold and twist open the ointment tube. Yet, he stubbornly tried to open it with both hands.
Just as Eugene was about to do so, Lorraine, who had been in a daze, finally snapped out of it. She gently took the ointment from his hand and whispered, "Let me do it myself."
"Your hand is injured, yet you're still being stubborn?" Eugene's voice carried both reproach and concern. "Sit still and be good. Give me the ointment."
"Don't move your IV hand, or you might dislodge the needle. Let me handle it."
Lorraine twisted open the ointment, when Eugene snatched it from her and set it on the bedside table. He took her hand, laid it flat, and rested it gently on his lap.
"Don't move. Let me do this for you," Eugene said softly. Dipping his fingertip into the green ointment, he gently smoothed it across the back of Lorraine's hand with meticulous care.
Lowering her gaze to his slender, bamboo-like fingers, she felt as though they held a magical touch, soothing away all the unease in her heart. She watched it all in silence, savoring this rare and fleeting moment of tenderness.
Eugene fell silent, his touch growing even more tender.
Lorraine pressed her lips together, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
After carefully smoothing the ointment over her skin, Eugene looked up at Lorraine and asked softly, "Does it still hurt?"