Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 109: Chapter 109

The faint scent of soda water, the coolness of the ointment, and Eugene's gentle woody fragrance all blended together and filled Lorraine's senses. It was like the perfect painkiller—her pain faded almost instantly.
Lorraine's suppressed tears slowly receded, leaving only her red-rimmed eyes. She bit her lower lip and slowly stopped resisting.
Finally, Lorraine stopped pulling her hand away. Eugene's lips slowly curved into a devastatingly handsome smile that made her breath catch.
Her anxious heart gradually calmed as she watched Eugene awkwardly apply the ointment, then clumsily wrap the gauze around her hand and fumble with the knot. Subconsciously, Lorraine reached out her hand to help.
"Let me help," Lorraine said softly, reaching for one end of the gauze to tie it with Eugene. Finally, with Eugene's help, Lorraine playfully tied a bow on the back of her hand, grinning at her handiwork.
The white bow fluttered like a butterfly poised for flight—absolutely breathtaking. This was the first time someone had ever bandaged her after she got hurt and made it look so beautiful.
Lorraine gave a little sniffle and murmured in a muffled voice, "All done. Thank you, Eugene."
"I won't get a decent meal until your hand heals," Eugene said, his voice laced with quiet laughter and a gentle warmth.
Lorraine looked up, and for a split second, her eyes met Eugene's before she quickly dropped her gaze.
Two IV bags had been replaced, and now only the last one remained. Lorraine sat by Eugene's hospital bed, letting him hold her hand as she gazed at the dwindling IV bag, secretly wishing this scene could last forever. And she snapped out of it.
Eugene watched Lorraine nod and shake her head like a bobblehead, and then rested his large hand on her crown. "What's going on in that busy little mind of yours?" he teased.
"N-no, nothing at all." Lorraine inexplicably felt a pang of guilt.
Eugene's lips quirked into a sly smile as he shot a meaningful glance at the IV bag, his eyes glinting with hidden amusement. With graceful ease, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slipped on his shoes, unhurried and composed.
"Wait, where are you going?" Lorraine asked anxiously.
Eugene reached up, unhooked the IV bag from the stand, and gave it a little shake toward Lorraine. In a low, commanding voice, he said, "Come here. Hold this."
Lorraine sprang to her feet, grabbed the IV bag, and held it high, her eyes clouded with worry. "Where are you going?" she asked.
Eugene shot Lorraine a helpless look and said, "Just come with me, okay? With one hand out of commission, things are a bit tricky for me. I'm counting on you to help me out."
Lorraine nodded like a bobblehead. But when she looked up and caught that sly, mischievous smile on Eugene's lips, a wave of unease washed over her. She followed him for a couple of steps—then suddenly realized something was off.
Lorraine hesitated for a moment, but Eugene urged her on. When she finally saw where they'd stopped, she stared at the door in disbelief. It was the restroom. She was utterly mortified.
"Um... I-I'll just stay out here," Lorraine stammered, her cheeks flushing. "There are hooks inside, so you can just... hang it up yourself. That'll do." Lorraine's cheeks flushed a faint pink as her limpid eyes met Eugene's.
"Just a moment ago, you said you'd do anything for me," Eugene said, looking at her with wounded puppy-dog eyes, his voice dripping with exaggerated sadness. "With one hand out of commission, I can't use the restroom by myself. Am I a nuisance?"
"This is a hospital, Eugene," Lorraine muttered, feeling frustrated. Clearly, Eugene had just set a trap for her, and now he was waiting for her to walk right into it.
Eugene gazed intently at Lorraine, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What's wrong with it being a hospital?" he teased. "They can't exactly stop someone when nature calls, can they?"
There was a hint of playful impudence in Eugene's voice, and Lorraine's mouth fell slightly open in surprise. "Alright, alright, I'll help you," Lorraine cut in, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and gritted-teeth frustration.
Clutching the IV bag, Lorraine followed Eugene into the restroom, her whole body stiff with discomfort.
Eugene kept studying Lorraine's expression, that teasing smirk never leaving his lips. He was endlessly patient as he played with the flustered Lorraine.
"Y-you go ahead," Lorraine said, helping him hang the IV bag on the wall hook before slowly backing toward the door.
Eugene stood in the restroom, grabbed Lorraine's wrist, and pulled her back. With a teasing grin, he said, "If you leave, what am I supposed to do? You think my zipper's going to magically unzip itself?"
"You..." Lorraine gritted her teeth. 'Whatever, it's just helping with the plumbing,' Lorraine thought, 'I'll just pretend this faucet is made of flesh.' With that, she reached out with trembling fingers and hastily unzipped Eugene's pants.
When Lorenzo stepped into the empty hospital room, he heard muffled sounds coming from the restroom and headed toward them. The moment Lorenzo glanced over, he froze—his eyes wide in disbelief.
Lorenzo spotted Eugene and Lorraine in the restroom. Lorraine was bent over, her head practically pressed against his lower abdomen. It was impossible not to get the wrong idea.
Lorenzo secretly gave Eugene a mental thumbs-up. 'That quiet smolder is the real deal,' he thought. 'When it comes to getting things done, he never misses a beat.'
The scene was downright steamy. Lorenzo would've loved to keep watching, but he didn't dare risk what Eugene was capable of. He was just about to sneak away.
In his haste, Lorenzo accidentally knocked against the nearby cabinet, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth at the pain. The sudden clatter immediately drew the attention of the two inside the restroom.
When Lorraine looked up and saw Lorenzo grimacing, her cheeks—already rosy—flushed crimson. "Y-you... you do it yourself." Lorraine stammered, touching her cheeks, which felt like they were on fire. With her head down, she bolted from the room.
Eugene arched a brow, his thin lips curling into a smirk as his eyes shimmered with mischief.
Lorenzo rubbed his sore knee, feeling the chill from Eugene's cold stare. He blurted out in a rush, "I swear, I didn't mean to spoil your fun—honestly, I swear to God!"
Eugene zipped up one-handed, adjusted himself, then picked up his IV bag and lifted it up. As he passed by Lorenzo, he said offhandedly, "You seem pretty free these days."
When Eugene returned to his hospital bed, Lorraine had already bolted. Lorenzo examined his face with exaggerated seriousness and exclaimed, "Damn, you're seriously a freak. Even your recovery is freakishly fast. With these three IV bags, you won't even need to come back tomorrow."
Eugene waved him off. "Yeah, get lost." After Eugene finished all three IV bags, the tiny red bumps on his face had nearly vanished, and the swelling in his cheeks had gone down significantly. Lorraine couldn't help but marvel at how quickly he'd recovered.
Dusk had fallen when Eugene and Lorraine returned to the palatial stone manor. Hand in hand, they stepped through the gate together.
As soon as they stepped into the courtyard, they were met with a staggering sight: boxes upon boxes of Hermès haute couture pieces piled high, occupying more than half the courtyard, with workers still bringing in even more.
Seeing the boxes, Lorraine turned to Eugene. "Did you arrange for all these?"
Eugene shook his head, his brow furrowing deeply as he surveyed the boxes.
"It was me!" Queenie's voice, gentle yet firm, rang out. Lorraine turned to see Queenie seated by the stone table in the courtyard of the palatial stone manor, her svelte figure radiating elegance.
To Lorraine's shock, it was Queenie, the woman she'd met at the hospital. She didn't expect to see Queenie here.
A pot of coffee sat before Queenie. With graceful poise, she lifted her cup and savored each sip. It was an elegant, mesmerizing sight. There was something strangely familiar about her composed demeanor.
Queenie didn't seem the least bit awkward about barging into someone else's place. If anything, she acted like she owned it. She raised her coffee cup, shot Eugene a challenging eyebrow, and asked, "Want a cup?"
Eugene, holding Lorraine's hand, led her over and took a seat across from Queenie. With a cool tone, he asked, "What are you doing here?"
Queenie took a sip of coffee, an amused smirk on her lips as she shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be here? Just like you, I can come and go as I please." Her hostile gaze locked onto Eugene and Lorraine's clasped hands, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
Noticing Queenie's displeasure, Lorraine tightened her grip on Eugene's fingers and pretended not to notice her gaze. "Um, will Ms. Godfrey be staying here t-tonight?"
"Of course," Queenie replied confidently. "And what's more, I'll be living here from now on."
Lorraine had meant the question for Eugene, but Queenie cut in and answered before he could even respond. She sensed hostility radiating from Queenie.
Eugene didn't argue with Queenie. He simply gave her an inscrutable glance—neither warm nor cold—yet it was clear he maintained a measured tolerance toward her.
When Lorraine heard that Queenie would be living here from now on, her heart sank. Suddenly, she remembered thinking earlier that afternoon. She'd never expected that Queenie would be living with them.
No matter how Lorraine felt about it, since Eugene didn't object, Queenie moved in as if she belonged there.
As dusk fell, Lorraine lay beside Eugene in the palatial stone manor, feeling a pang of discomfort at the thought of Queenie—a woman so close to Eugene, yet whose relationship with him she just couldn't figure out.
After a fitful night's sleep, Lorraine woke to find Eugene already gone. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she got ready and checked her phone. She needed to go to the university today to pick up some materials.
Stepping from the bedroom into the living room, Lorraine spotted Queenie seated in the dining area, draped in an exquisite crimson silk robe, savoring her breakfast with unhurried grace.
Before her lay several slices of golden-brown whole wheat toast, a perfectly fried sunny-side-up egg on a white porcelain plate, and a glass of milk, three-quarters full, set to the side.
Queenie was absorbed in her phone, though it was unclear what she was doing. Sunlight danced across her face, accentuating her exquisite features.
Suddenly, Lorraine felt like an ugly duckling, her heart sinking. Seizing the moment when Queenie wasn't looking, she tiptoed through the living room, slung her backpack over one shoulder, and slipped out the door.
Little did Lorraine know that, the moment she stepped out, Queenie set down her phone and fixed her gaze on the door, her eyes inscrutable.
After savoring her breakfast at a leisurely pace, Queenie checked her watch, then rose and stepped out. She got into her car and headed toward Lorraine's university.