Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 79: Chapter 79

Time seemed to grind to a halt.
Sheila lounged on the couch, a smug grin plastered across her face.
Lorraine stood by the kitchen door, her bowl of oatmeal wobbling. She shook—whether from rage or nerves, she couldn't tell.
Eugene froze for a while before dropping his right arm suddenly. Then he groaned, grabbed it with his left hand, and sank back into his chair, his face a perfect mix of pain and inner turmoil.
Sheila blinked. 'Is this guy Oscar-worthy? His acting is so flawless I almost buy it.'
Lorraine took a breath to steady her racing heart, setting the oatmeal down. "Is your arm okay?"
"Fine. Sheila jostled me, and I reacted on instinct." Eugene frowned, wearing an expression of "it hurts, but I'll power through."
Lorraine looked worried. "Did the wound reopen? Should we get you to the hospital?"
"No, just a bit sore. I'll be fine after a quick rest." Eugene leaned back, trying to look stoic.
Lorraine didn't push further. Then a cough from the sofa direction made her realize Sheila was still in the room. She scurried over and asked, "Sheila, you good?"
"Peachy." Sheila's tone dripped with sarcasm. "Shocking you lovebirds remembered I exist. Want me to drive you to the hospital? Can't have Mr. Moore's wound getting infected from my little 'bump'—my family couldn't handle that liability."
The tension was suffocating. Lorraine tugged Sheila's sleeve, voice pleading. "Sheila, go easy. He got hurt because of me."
Sheila gave her a "you're hopeless" look.
Eugene turned to Lorraine, offering a small smile. "If you don't eat now, the oatmeal will get cold."
"Oh right, the oatmeal! You guys go ahead. I've got some more in the kitchen. Let me grab it," Lorraine said before rushing back into the kitchen.
Eugene flicked a glance at Sheila lounging on the couch. "Care to join us?" he asked, though his invitation was about as sincere as a snake's smile.
Sheila smirked, stood up, and smoothed her hair. "Sure. But I'm curious—how do you eat with your left hand?"
Eugene's face remained blank. Right before her eyes, he picked up a spoon with his "injured" right hand and took a sip. "Still clunky, but better than before. Wanna try?"
"You!" Sheila was stunned that he wasn't even trying to hide anything anymore. She whipped toward the kitchen and shouted, "Lorraine, Eugene—"
"Your father grounded you for three months because of your reckless behavior, right?"
Sheila's mouth snapped shut—freedom was her kryptonite. Clenching her fist, she stepped closer. "Eugene, why lie to Lorraine? Don't you feel any guilt?"
Sheila seethed inwardly, 'I wish I could pound some sense into him. Only a gullible fool like Lorraine would fall for this charade.'
"Focus on your own life. I don't need anyone butting in my issues with her."
Sheila scoffed, "Oh, so you're building a fortress? No one allowed inside?"
"When the time is right, I'll tell her the truth."
"And when's that?" Sheila pressed.
Eugene's gaze turned intense, but he stayed silent—Lorraine emerged from the kitchen.
Sheila's eyes locked on the bowl of oatmeal on the table. She stood and "accidentally" knocked it over—perfect aim. The entire bowl splattered across Eugene's injured arm before crashing to the floor.
Eugene's face turned ice-cold, murderous intent radiating off him. His first instinct was to jerk his arm back, but he forced himself to remember he was "incapacitated."
He sat rigid as oatmeal dripped from his sleeve to the tiles. For a clean freak, this was pure torture. Inside, he seethed, but his chiseled features stayed composed. "How clumsy of you, Ms. Stuard."
"You okay?" Sheila gasped, shoving a tissue at him. "Wipe up fast. If your arm's out of commission, how'll you handle those long nights?"
'Oatmeal spilled, and it was totally an accident, right? Served him right for threatening her earlier,' she scoffed silently.
Lorraine eyed them both, sure they were hiding something, but didn't dwell on it. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wiped Eugene's arm.
Eugene sat stone-still, and his eyes shot Sheila a lethal glare.
Feeling the tension, Lorraine tugged Sheila toward the door. "Maybe you should head home, Sheila."
Sheila didn't argue—she knew when to quit. She pulled Lorraine outside, but a sharp gasp came from behind them.
Lorraine whirled. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just my injury acting up." Eugene's voice suddenly turned gentle. "Come back soon, okay? Don't stay out too long."
Lorraine's chest tightened. The thought of him needing her—even for a second—sent a thrill through her. She nodded numbly. "Okay, wait for me. I'll walk Sheila to her car and be right back."
"Take care, Ms. Stuard." Eugene slowly walked to the doorway. "Must be nice to be injury-free and able to move around so freely, aren't you?"
The word "free" hung heavy. Sheila caught the dig, rolling her eyes as she dragged Lorraine out of the manor.
They talked about everything but Eugene on the walk. Once in the car, Sheila pulled a small box from the glove compartment. "Hide this. Don't let Eugene see."
"What's this?" Lorraine opened the small box, finding a bottle of pepper spray inside. She looked surprised. "Why are you giving me this?"
"He's crossed boundaries before, and I let it slide when you needed his protection. But last night..." Sheila huffed. "I'm not harping on that, but Lorraine—he has a girlfriend now. It's fine to help him, but don't let him take advantage. If he tries anything, spray him."
Lorraine nodded. Last night was a fluke; she'd never let it happen again.
Sheila's scowl faded slightly. "Go on. If you want, aim for his wound."
"Wait, what?" Lorraine gaped. "Spraying a wound could cause an infection."
Sheila gave a dark laugh. "Trust me, you'll wish you had a whole bottle when the time comes."
Lorraine stood there, confused.
Sheila rolled up the car window, started the engine, and drove away from this place. 'Out of sight, out of mind,' she thought.
As she stopped at a red light, her phone pinged. A text read: [Hello, Ms. Stuard. This is Lorenzo.] The words carried a veneer of politeness.
Sheila paused, struggling to remember who this person was. She finally texted back: [Who are you?]
Lorenzo clutched his phone, staring intently at her reply before carefully crafting his response.
[Remember bumping into me outside Moore Group this morning? I'm in a cast with no one to help me. Any chance you could swing by the hospital?] He attached a close-up photo of his plastered foot.
Sheila opened the message and instantly flew into a rage. She immediately dialed his number.
Lorenzo stared at the incoming call in disbelief, winking at the nearby nurse. "See that? I'm a total pro at getting a girl's attention. Just a few texts and boom—she's calling me."
His smile was incredibly charming. The nurse was so distracted that she nearly missed the injection.
Clearing his throat, Lorenzo answered. "Ms. Stuard—"
Sheila barked, "Lorenzo, right? I'm seriously disappointed I didn't break all your limbs—not just that leg!"
Lorenzo was completely thrown off by her verbal attack. Her voice blasted through the phone so loudly that even the nurses in the room could hear every word, making him cringe with embarrassment.
"Ms. Stuard, oh, Sheila," he quickly corrected himself, "I—"
"Don't 'Sheila' me. We're not that close."
Lorenzo's temple twitched. "My leg is actually broken. You—"
"Seriously?" Sheila laughed icily. "First Eugene fakes an injury, and now you break a leg? You two should audition for a comedy show."
Lorenzo was left speechless. The next moment, the phone clattered to the table, the dial tone buzzing in the awkward silence.
He eyed his casted foot, a sudden wave of self-pity washing over him. 'Turns out hurting myself actually does suck. Guess what goes around really does come around.'
'But Sheila's scolding voice is kinda hot, actually,' he thought. He pictured her flushed with anger, brows furrowed—cute, in a feral sort of way.
The nurses watched him sigh, scowl, then break into a goofy grin. They exchanged glances—did he fracture his skull instead of his leg?
Lorraine lingered at the alley's end until Sheila's taillights disappeared. Clutching the pepper spray, she headed back, her mind racing. 'Why would Sheila give me this?'
To her surprise, Eugene was waiting in the courtyard. Seeing the item in her hand, he frowned. "What's that?"
"N-nothing." Lorraine instinctively hid the pepper spray behind her back.