Atrophy of Love: Mr. Harris, Stop Fooling Around! novel Chapter 162

Charles looked over Victor’s shoulder and his gaze fell on Sophia. He had only managed to catch a fleeting glimpse before the doctor and nurses pushed Sophia out of the ward. They quickly disappeared from his sight.

"No offense, but I heard that Mr. Harris rejected Ms. White when she offered to get in bed with you some time ago. So why did you..." Victor did not finish his sentence but simply bent over and picked up the torn patient blouse from the ground. The implication was clear.

Charles took the patient blouse from him and frowned slightly, having absolutely no interest to explain himself. He took two steps to the left in an attempt to get around him.

Victor, however, mimicked him and took two steps to the left as well, barring his way.

"Please step aside, Dr. Hemingway." Charles sounded polite, but coolness had started creeping into the depth of his eyes.

"Not this time." The dimple at the corner of Victor's mouth was very shallow, containing a hint of teasing and taunting. "Who knows what a person who can do such a beastly thing to a patient will do in the emergency room!"

Charles glanced at him, his eyes gradually freezing into ice.

"If you want me to treat Ms. White's legs, Mr. Harris, then you better listen to me." Victor pointed to a chair. "Stay here. You won't be able to help even if you go to the emergency room. You’ll only make things worse even if you do help."

Charles pursed his lips and looked in the direction where Sophia had left. His fingers scrunched up together, then loosened before scrunching up again. Eventually, he retracted his leg that had stepped out.

Instead of taking a seat, he looked at Victor and said, "Dr. Hemingway, your attitude toward Sophia seems to have exceeded that of a doctor and a patient.”

"Seems to? More like certainly." Victor's dimples deepened in his slightly dark and grim gaze. "After all, my aunt told me to take good care of Ms. White—especially when Mr. Harris is around. If anything happens to Ms. White, my aunt will peel my skin off."

"That’s all?" Charles said pointedly.

Victor lifted his eyebrows and answered with another question, "What else do you think?"

The air in the ward seemed to be compressed. The atmosphere was particularly stifling.

Charles carried the torn patient blouse in his hand, pulled his gaze back from Victor, then lifted his leg and started out.

Victor furrowed his eyebrows and barred Charles’ way again, saying in a deep voice, "Mr. Harris, you refuse to listen to my advice and insist on going out. Aren't you worried that I will not treat Ms. White leg?"

Charles darted him a cool glance and grimaced slightly. He grabbed him by the arm and slammed him to the ground with a shoulder throw.

Victor held the ground for support and slowly sat on the ground. He rubbed his aching body and sneered. "Looks like Mr. Harris doesn't really care much about Ms. White's legs after all."

"Aunt Lucy will peel your skin off if you don’t treat Sophia’s leg." Charles extended his hand toward him and pulled him up.

Victor patted his sore butt and smiled helplessly. He had eased up a little between their conversation. "If we talk about schemes, there’s no doubt that a doctor can never beat a businessman."

He looked at Charles and said, "For the good of Ms. White, I would suggest that you stay here, Mr. Harris. She mustn’t be agitated or it’ll only make her condition worse."

"Thank you," Charles said succinctly without looking at him this time and strode out of the ward holding the torn patient blouse in his hand.

Victor stared at his back, rubbed his painful shoulder, and frowned in pain. He sighed. Out of fear for Aunt Lucy's repeated exhortations, he eventually went along.