“What?!”
Crash!
Harrison had just lifted a steaming cup of tea when the news hit him. His hand jerked, the cup slipped from his grasp, and hot tea splashed across the back of his hand, scalding his skin. But he didn’t seem to notice the pain. He shot to his feet, eyes blazing with fury. “What did you say?!”
Logan realized belatedly that his words could be misunderstood and hurried to clarify, “Mr. Lancaster, please don’t worry—your wife is fine! She called me herself just now and asked me to handle the accident—”
Despite the reassurance, Harrison’s worry only deepened. He grabbed his coat, his face a thundercloud. “Where is Ana now?”
“From what she said, her cousin was injured. She should be at the hospital right now…”
“Take me there. Now.”
—Hospital—
Benson had been sideswiped by the car. The injuries weren’t life-threatening, but they weren’t minor either.
Anastasia and Juliet went with him to the hospital, staying by his side as the doctors treated his wounds.
Once the doctor finished, Juliet stepped out to call home, leaving Anastasia and Benson alone in the room.
Benson glanced at her, eyes complicated, as if struggling to find the right words. After a moment, he couldn’t hold back. “Why did you save me?”
Anastasia met his furrowed gaze. “You’re my cousin.”
Benson fell silent.
After a long pause, he looked away. “I do appreciate what you did. I’ll have someone send a reward to the Sterling family.”
His words were polite, but his tone was cold—making it clear he wanted to keep his distance.
Anastasia’s eyes widened. The man was gentle and scholarly, the woman composed and elegant—her uncle, Murray Brennan, and his wife, Winni.
After so many years, to see her relatives again so suddenly left Anastasia stunned.
Murray and Winni’s expressions shifted the instant they recognized her.
Anastasia found her voice. “Uncle, Aunt…”
Murray recovered first, his demeanor as calm and polite as ever. He adjusted his glasses. “Anastasia, thank you for bringing your cousin to the hospital.”
His tone was gentle, but it carried the cool formality of a stranger, not the warmth reserved for a beloved niece.
Winni quickly composed herself too. Her gaze went cold, and the smile she forced held a trace of unmistakable disdain. “So, it’s you, Anastasia.”
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