I Married the President Chapter 35: Every Scar Is Like a Thorn

「Evergreen Garden.」

Claire Sinclair had been lying on the floor for so long that she’d fallen asleep without even realizing it.

The living room door was suddenly thrown open. Adrian Quincy rushed in like a hurricane, coming to her side. He grabbed her arm and flipped her over.

"Claire Sinclair, wake up," he said, his voice ice-cold and devoid of any emotion.

Claire Sinclair groggily opened her eyes. A handso face filled her vision, making her mind even fuzzier.

’I must be dreaming,’ she thought, ’or maybe my eyes are playing tricks on .’

And so, she closed her eyes again.

Suddenly, her body felt light as the man lifted her into his arms.

Startled, Claire Sinclair instinctively grabbed his clothes. "You... you’re real!"

He abruptly lowered his head, his icy eyes sweeping over her. Her pretty, sleep-dazed face still had a certain charm, but the bump on her forehead was jarring to see.

An involuntary tightness gripped his heart. He quickened his pace to the sofa, bent down, and gently placed her on it.

"Wait here for ."

"..."

He went upstairs after saying just that, and she had no idea what for.

Claire Sinclair raised a hand to touch the bump on her forehead. ’Ouch, that hurts...’

Before long, Adrian Quincy ca downstairs with a first-aid kit. He ticulously took out the dical supplies and said, his face expressionless, "Check yourself for injuries. I’ll apply the ointnt to any spots you can’t reach."

Hearing his words, Claire Sinclair was instantly reminded of how that scumbag had tried to hurt her. A pang of anguish shot through her chest, and she sat frozen in place.

’I’m not helpless,’ she thought. ’Why should I need his help? Besides, I’m not even injured.’

"I’m not injured. I don’t need your help."

"Check yourself. Don’t make say it a third ti."

"I won’t! If you have the guts, then force , just like that damned scumbag Logan Linden did! That way I can report you for assau—ah, you’re really doing it!"

She cried out in alarm as the man roughly rolled up her sleeve.

"You... Don’t touch ..." Claire Sinclair was terrified. She tried to pull her arm back, shrinking away, but with her back against the sofa, there was nowhere to escape.

Adrian Quincy’s gaze fell on the small scrapes covering her arm, so of which were flecked with dried blood.

Every scratch was like a thorn stabbing into his heart.

’If her sister had gotten such a minor injury, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But this fragile girl... she had completely shattered his defenses.’

He said nothing. He simply picked up a dical cotton swab, dipped it in alcohol, and began to clean the area around the more serious-looking wounds on her arm.

Every ti the cotton swab touched her skin, a jolt of pain shot through her arm, and tears welled in her eyes.

"You’re impossible! I told you not to, but you’re doing it anyway! I’m tough, a little fall isn’t going to kill !"

"Do your legs hurt?"

"Not at all."

’Creep. As if I want to talk to him!’

"Let see."

"I already told you, they don’t hurt..."