After Betrayal - I Married a Handsome Tycoon-Chapter 32: Medicine

Torn?

Torn where?

Moira Sloan’s message was blunt, but its very bluntness was what made it so baffling.

After all, not many girls could say something so blush-worthy.

When Connor Quinn received the message, he was in the kitchen making breakfast for Jade Quinn. He froze for a moment before it dawned on him, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

’He had... hurt her.’

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Connor Quinn walked out of the kitchen. He casually set the breakfast on the dining table and called for Jade Quinn to eat while simultaneously texting Moira Sloan back: Is it bad?

Moira Sloan replied: Uh-huh.

Connor Quinn: At home?

Moira Sloan: Mmm.

Connor Quinn: I’m on my way.

After sending the text, Connor Quinn went back to his bedroom to change clothes and walked to the entryway to put on his shoes.

Seeing that he was about to leave, Jade Quinn, who was sitting at the dining table eating breakfast, widened her eyes while chewing on a bite of fried egg. "Connor," she asked curiously, "where are you going so early in the morning?"

’The tattoo parlor doesn’t open this early.’

’Even when a few regular clients book an appointment, it’s usually for sometime after nine.’

Connor Quinn’s expression was nonchalant. "Just going for a walk."

Jade Quinn’s eyes darted around as she ventured a guess. "And where exactly are you walking to?"

Connor Quinn said, "Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself and eat your breakfast."

Undaunted by Connor Quinn’s cold gaze, Jade Quinn put on a wide smile, her eyes sparkling as she continued to press, "Are you going to see that beautiful proprietress?"

Connor Quinn said, "Just eat your food."

In the end, Connor Quinn didn’t give Jade Quinn an answer. He left his apartment complex and drove toward Moira Sloan’s place.

On the way, he stopped at a random pharmacy to buy some medicine. After he described the "symptoms," the pharmacist gave him a strange, searching look.

After a moment, the pharmacist handed him a tube of erythromycin ointment. Discreetly protecting her customer’s privacy, she leaned in and said in a low voice, "If the tear isn’t more than ten millimeters long and two millimeters deep, use this. It should heal in five to seven days. If it’s beyond that, you’ll need to go to a hospital for stitches."

"Right," Connor Quinn said.

Connor Quinn paid and left, but the pharmacist’s eyes followed him all the way out the door.

It wasn’t until another employee came over and nudged her teasingly, "What’s with the staring? You need some erythromycin ointment too?"

The pharmacist shot back, "Get out of here. I know that guy."

"Who is he?" the other employee asked.

"He’s the guy my friend likes," the pharmacist said.

The other employee’s jaw dropped. "So, did your friend just hook up with him? Or did he cheat on her?"

"I don’t know," the pharmacist replied.

After leaving the pharmacy, Connor Quinn pocketed the erythromycin ointment and strode to his car. Just as he took out his keys to unlock the door, Zachary Curran’s words from the previous night suddenly surfaced in his mind.

’His car is nice, a Valoria. The cheapest models start at around three million.’

’Most girls are into that kind of thing.’

The memory made Connor Quinn tighten his grip on his car keys, his brow furrowing slightly.

A few minutes later, he got into his car. As he turned the steering wheel to pull out, he dialed a number.

When the call connected, Connor Quinn said flatly, "Get me a car."

The person on the other end replied cheekily, "What kind of car are you looking for, Connor?"

Connor Quinn said, "You figure it out. Something in the three-to-five-million range."

"No problem, Connor. When do you need it by?" the person asked.

Connor Quinn said in a low voice, "A week."

"OK. I’ll make sure it’s delivered within a week," the person promised.

After hanging up, Connor Quinn’s expression was cold and distant.

He had always lived a simple life, indifferent to material pursuits.

But now...

When Connor Quinn arrived at Moira Sloan’s apartment complex, he stopped by the breakfast shop near the entrance to pick up two meals.

He went upstairs and knocked on her door. Moira Sloan answered, soaking wet and wearing a wine-red slip.

And "soaking wet" wasn’t a euphemism for having just showered—she was literally drenched.

From her hair down to her slip, she was dripping water.

Connor Quinn glanced at her, then past her into the apartment. "What happened?"

Moira Sloan pouted and crossed her arms. Despite looking like a total mess, she held her head high with an air of defiance. "The kitchen pipe broke," she said, lifting her chin slightly.

’Who knew it would just break for no reason?’

She had only wanted to wash some strawberries, but when she twisted the faucet, she’d apparently turned into a damsel with superhuman strength and torn the whole thing off.

She was so exasperated she had to laugh.

With the faucet head in her hand, the high-pressure spray had instantly drenched her from head to toe.

Hearing this, Connor Quinn strode inside and set the breakfast on the dining table. He then grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pulled it off over his head to reveal a solid, muscular back, and walked into the kitchen.

Moira Sloan stood outside the kitchen and watched him. When she saw how deftly he plugged the gushing pipe with a towel, the corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smile.

’Guess he’s good for more than just what he can do with his lower body.’

After dealing with the kitchen, Connor Quinn turned to the dainty-looking Moira Sloan standing in the doorway. "Go take a shower."

Moira Sloan raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

Connor Quinn said, "So I can apply the ointment."