Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 144: Chapter 144

The faculty at the medical college must have been notified in advance, as they showed no surprise or displeasure at Lorraine's return. Instead, they told her to rest at home and only resume classes after her internship was fully completed.
Lorraine walked out of the medical college with a stack of materials. The security guard winked at her and said, "What a fancy car. It must be worth a few hundred grand, huh?"
Baffled, Lorraine turned to look outside the gate. A white sedan sat quietly under the sycamore tree. 'Wait... Isn't that the one from last night?' Lorraine wondered.
"The guy said he's looking for Lorraine. That's you, right?" the security guard asked.
Lorraine nodded, carrying the shoe box as she walked over to the car. She knocked on the window and asked, "Hi, are you here to pick up the shoes?"
There was no response from the car, as if it were empty.
Footsteps approached from behind—leisurely yet refined—slowly crushing the fallen sycamore leaves beneath with a delicate rustling sound.
"Are you Lorraine?" Ian asked, leaning against a sycamore tree.
Startled, Lorraine spun around and found Ian lounging against the tree trunk. He was still dressed in his signature purple shirt, white suit, and matching white leather shoes.
A crisply folded purple pocket square peeked from his suit's breast pocket, exuding a sense of refined sophistication. His medium-length hair fell over his ears, a little tousled by the breeze.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Lorraine froze.
Ian's features were strikingly chiseled, but what truly caught Lorraine's attention were his eyes. Astonishingly, they were a mesmerizing shade of violet.
Lorraine thought to herself, 'Just like Ian himself—enigmatic, dangerously alluring, radiating an aura that keeps others at arm's length.'
Lorraine gulped nervously and instinctively stepped back, then placed the shoebox on the ground by the car door. Looking at Eugene, she said, "Those shoes are beautiful. They didn't deserve to be tossed out like that."
With that, Lorraine turned on her heel and started to walk away.
But the next moment, Ian reached out to block her way. "Ms. Shaw."
Lorraine blurted out, "What's the matter? Think I wore your shoes, or are you checking if there's something wrong with them? Be my guest; check all you want."
Lorraine met his gaze unflinchingly, her eyes crystal-clear.
Ian arched a brow as he suddenly leaned in with gentleness. "Don't you like the shoes?" he murmured. His breath, laced with a hazy, alluring scent of lavender, brushed softly against her ear.
Lorraine jolted violently, instinctively jerking her head back. 'Why do you have to stand so close just to talk?' she thought, feeling flustered.
"Whether I like them or not is irrelevant. They were never mine to begin with. Just take them back," Lorraine said firmly.
"They're yours now," Ian said with uncharacteristic gentleness, though his violet eyes glinted with something dangerous. "By the way, my name's Ian Pedler, and I despise greedy women. But once I give something, it cannot be returned."
He stressed every syllable slowly as he delivered the final words. It was an unmistakable warning.
Lorraine froze for a moment, completely baffled. 'This guy is seriously weird,' she thought.
Lorraine glanced back at the shoebox. "Since you've given them to me, can I just throw them away?"
"Not a chance. Put them on and let me admire you first. Then you may leave," Ian said with a teasing smile.
'I think I just ran into a total weirdo... And not just any weirdo, but a loaded, high-class one. Can't let his elegant and charming facade fool me,' Lorraine warned herself.
She gasped, suddenly ducked under Ian's arm, and bolted forward.
Suddenly, Lorraine felt an iron grip tighten around her waist. Before she could react, the world spun violently before her eyes. In the next instant, Ian had tossed her onto the hood of his car.
Her feet suddenly went cold. Ian had already pulled off the sneakers she'd worn that morning.
Lorraine gaped at Ian, completely thrown off. "Ian, what the hell are you doing?"
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Shaw," Ian said with an elegant smile. "Finally, we've known each other's names."
With that, he spun around and hurled both shoes straight into the campus lake.
The sneakers disappeared into the lake, sinking straight to the bottom without so much as a ripple.
'If only I could grab those heels and bash his head in! Sure enough, this guy is such a freak!' Lorraine thought to herself.
Ian bent down, picked up the box from the floor, and pulled out the shoes. Then he dropped to one knee, intending to slip them onto her feet.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Lorraine seized the moment and delivered a powerful kick straight at him.
Ian had never met a woman so unyielding. Caught completely off guard, he was sent sprawling, landing flat on his back in the most undignified way.
With a swift leap off the hood, Lorraine grabbed Ian's pristine white leather shoes, yanked them right off his feet, and hurled them with all her might into the lake.
Ian was lost for words.
Lorraine just dusted off her hands, tightened her grip on her backpack, and said, "There, your shoes are returned. Now we're even. See you."
Barefoot, she sprinted away. Afraid Ian might catch up, Lorraine ran as fast as she could, her shoulder-length ponytail whipping behind her in lively arcs—the very picture of youthful vitality.
Ian remained seated and suddenly let out a soft chuckle.
'Well, this girl is quite intriguing,' Ian mused.
From inside the car, the driver watched the whole scene unfold. When Lorraine kicked Ian to the ground, he was so terrified his heart nearly stopped.
The driver flung open the car door. "M-Mr. Pedler..." he stammered.
"Hmm?" Ian pushed himself up with one hand and rose gracefully. His white suit was now dust-streaked. With a disdainful glance at the hem, he peeled the jacket off.
That bespoke suit worth tens of thousands was just tossed into the lake like it was nothing.
The driver hesitantly said, "Your father just called to ask... if you've found Ms. Pedler."
"Still haven't found her. That little troublemaker—let her have a few more days of fun," Ian said with an indulgent smile. "If I remember right, before she came here, didn't Norah use our family's resources to look into Lorraine's background?"
The driver replied, "Exactly."
Ian ordered, "Get me a copy."
"When do you need it, Mr. Pedler?" wondered the driver.
"Now," said Ian.
Lorraine darted out of the medical college and onto a bus. Only when she was certain Ian wasn't following did she finally allow herself to exhale in quiet relief.
It was midday, and the bus was nearly empty.
She found a seat in the far corner of the bus and settled in, her bare feet swinging idly back and forth.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a text.
Eugene: [Queenie's surgery is over. If you're free, come to the hospital.]
Lorraine gazed gloomily at the words "Queenie's surgery is over," her heart heavy with sorrow for Queenie.
Even if she survived this surgery, the psychological trauma would be devastating for any woman, not to mention the survival rate was so terribly low.
After a moment of thought, Lorraine typed out her reply word by word: [Okay, I'm on my way.]
Eugene read Lorraine's message and set his phone aside.
Queenie had just come out of surgery. The anesthesia had worn off, leaving her face deathly pale, with deep, bruise-like circles under her eyes.
When the pain struck, Queenie could only press the button on the PCA pump attached to her back to feel better. But it provided little relief.
"Is that Lorraine? Is she coming?" Queenie asked weakly. Her lips were parched and cracked; even speaking was agony. Yet she forced out this one question with the last of her strength.
Eugene was pouring water when he paused at her words. He turned and gently pressed a moistened cotton swab to her parched lips. "Yes, it's her," he said softly.
Queenie's expression turned peculiar. Her sallow face was filled with grief, yet she simply pursed her lips and said nothing.
"I'll take care of everything. Don't worry. Just focus on your recovery," Eugene said softly after a pause. "I'll make sure you see Kye soon."
Queenie was about to close her eyes, but at his words, her eyes flew open wide, as if she couldn't believe those words had come from him.
Eugene gently moistened her lips with a cotton swab, his expression deceptively calm. "Lorraine will be here soon, but I won't let you see her. Just rest."
Queenie closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.
Eugene stayed quietly by her side the entire time, waiting until footsteps echoed in the hallway—measured and deliberate, advancing a few steps before pausing intermittently. It was a sound Eugene knew by heart.
After confirming Queenie was sound asleep, Eugene rose, set the glass of warm water aside, then, with barely a sound, closed the door behind him and stepped into the hallway.
Eugene spotted Lorraine.
True to her word, Lorraine stood at the end of the corridor. The setting sun slanted through the window, its autumnal melancholy draping her delicate face in a soft, ethereal glow like a veil.
Lorraine spotted Eugene too and instinctively froze in her tracks.
Standing about sixteen feet apart, Eugene and Lorraine locked eyes, their gazes tangling in the air between them like invisible threads pulling taut.
Though only half a day had passed since he last saw her, to Eugene, it somehow felt like centuries.
He used to be so sure that no matter how far he wandered, the moment he turned back, she'd be standing right there, waiting for him.
It was just like that rainy night—she was skipping along behind him, with the plastic bag he gave her on her head, looking just like a tiny mushroom.
But just now, during Queenie's surgery, for the first time, he found himself uncertain. 'Would she still watch me journey far and wide, all alone, and still be there, waiting for me just as before?' he wondered.
So Eugene didn't ask her to come for any particular reason. He thought to himself, 'It's just that suddenly, I missed her so badly...'
Lorraine stood there, acutely aware that Queenie's hospital room lay just behind Eugene. She hesitated, not quite daring to approach, her nerves getting the better of her.
The cold hospital tiles made her bare feet go numb. She couldn't help but lift her right foot and gently rub it against the top of her left for warmth.
Out of the blue, Eugene strode toward her with long, purposeful steps.
Lorraine remembered how, back at the palatial stone manor, Eugene couldn't stand her walking barefoot across the floors. He'd scoop her up and haul her off to wash her feet.
Seeing Eugene stride toward her like that, Lorraine felt a sudden flutter of panic. She quickly tugged at her denim skirt, instinctively trying to hide her bare feet.
Eugene stopped dead in front of her.
Lorraine murmured, "I didn't mean to come here barefoot—"
After boarding the bus, Lorraine had meant to find some shoes to wear. But the moment Eugene's text came through, the crucial matter of footwear just completely slipped her mind. Only when she reached the hospital did it suddenly occur to her.
Before Lorraine could finish her sentence, Eugene swept her up. Her feet dangled in mid-air before she even realized what was happening.
Eugene wrapped his arms around Lorraine's waist, pulling her tightly against his chest. He was holding her so close; he couldn't bear to let go, not even for a moment.
Her feet dangled in the air, just at mid-calf level against his legs.
Sunlight slanted across them, casting their entwined silhouettes onto the floor—so tightly merged that not even a sliver of light could pass between them.