Alan Morgan didn’t want to believe any of this, but he had no choice. The truth was right before his eyes; how could he refuse to accept it?
"How are things between you and Shirley Grant..." Owen Lewis ventured to ask, sowhat regretfully. He had initially thought Alan Morgan would finally be able to settle the most important event of his life this ti.
"We haven’t had any relationship for a long ti. She even abandoned Gerry Peary when he was critically ill. I can never forgive a woman like that." Alan Morgan frowned, reaching out to touch his wound. Blood seeped out, and he had no choice but to remove his hospital gown.
"Let call a doctor for you." Owen Lewis sighed when he saw Alan Morgan intending to treat the wound himself. He’s right here in the hospital and still wants to handle it himself. Is there sothing wrong with his head? How could he be so foolish? Looking at his condition, even an outsider would find it hard to watch.
Owen Lewis walked over and pressed the bedside bell.
"Just help out, alright?" Owen Lewis sighed heavily, pointing at the docunts on the table. "You know I really can’t be bothered with these things; I simply don’t know how."
Seeing him like this, Alan Morgan also sighed. "I’ll help you with so of it then. After all, I’m still a patient."
The doctor arrived quickly, treated the wound, gave a few instructions, and then left.
Alan Morgan sat on the hospital bed, his expression terribly grim.
"Alan, seeing as we’re good buddies, let say sothing I probably shouldn’t." Owen Lewis hesitated for a mont but ultimately couldn’t hold it in any longer. "Look, I don’t think Shirley Grant is the kind of person you’re making her out to be. If she were really after money, why would she hide Gerry Peary’s existence for so many years? That doesn’t add up, does it? If she wanted to use Gerry Peary to get money from you, she would have done it long ago. Besides, Gerry Peary’s health condition was poor; she must have spent a lot of money on his treatnt early on. How could a woman like Shirley Grant, all on her own, have afforded that? Anyone can tell she must have endured incredible hardships."
Alan Morgan’s lips curled into a cold smirk. Perhaps this is just her tactic, he thought.
***
Silence descended upon University A. The principal was still sitting there, looking completely dejected.
"Spare !" he wailed incessantly, but Maxwell Peary had already left.
At that mont, not knowing what ca over him, he suddenly rushed to the Rolls-Royce and yanked open the car door.
"AH!" Nia Mitchell jumped, startled. She had been waiting for Fiona Sutton in the car and hadn’t locked the doors.
"What do you think you’re doing?" Nia Mitchell stared warily at the principal before her. He looked particularly wretched, having been kicked by Fiona Sutton a few tis.
Seeing him like this, Nia Mitchell felt a flicker of fear. After all, if he were pushed to the brink, he might do anything.
"Spare ! Go talk to Young Master Peary! Ask Young Master Peary to spare , please!" The principal’s face was contorted with anguish. He gazed at Nia Mitchell as if she were his only salvation, his eyes shining with a desperate light.
"Don’t co any closer! I’m warning you, get out of the way, now!" Because he was blocking the driver’s side door, Nia Mitchell couldn’t close it.
"Call Young Master Peary! Tell him to spare ! Or else I’ll... Or else I’ll..." The principal stood there, racking his brains for a long ti, but couldn’t think of anything to threaten Nia Mitchell with. The image of Young Master Peary’s rciless expression monts ago filled his mind, making him extrely anxious and flustered.
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