Damian Fairchild's mood soured in an instant. One moment, Seraphina Quinn was thanking him for his magnanimity; the next, his words plunged her into Hell.
'His words were so nasty!'
Seraphina Quinn felt a dull, heavy blow to her chest, leaving an uncomfortable ache.
She felt she ought to say something.
But she realized that anything she said would only spark an unnecessary argument.
And given their current situation, arguing was the last thing she and Damian Fairchild needed.
So, she swallowed the words that had been on the tip of her tongue.
After that, neither of them said another word.
After returning to the hospital, Seraphina Quinn found a doctor to examine Damian Fairchild.
Clearly, after all the commotion, the cast on Damian Fairchild's chest needed to be redone.
By the time the doctor had finished recasting Damian's chest and cleaning his wounds, it was already past two in the morning.
Seraphina Quinn was utterly exhausted.
