Chapter 62 He vomited blood
Francis remained silent, and Robert couldn't stand it anymore, so he directly confronted him.
"He said Harper likes you."
"Fuck!" Wesley was shocked, his face full of disbelief. "Didn't you know?"
Francis curled his lips into a sardonic smile and then froze.
"You're thinking too much. I’m not the person she likes."
He said firmly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the cup.
He thought about Harper's confrontational expression when she stood up to him for Keith.
And then he remembered how she had harbored feelings for other men, concealed within her heart for the past two years.
All of this weighed heavily on Francis, suffocating him.
It was a kind of shame for him!
He wished he could strangle her and that man.
Wesley was speechless. "Yesterday, when you passed out, Harper cried for three hours outside the operating room. She didn't leave your bedside, not even for a moment. She didn't eat or drink anything. How could she not like you?"
Francis was momentarily moved, but quickly denied it.
"I guarantee with my own head that the person in Harper's heart is definitely you!"
Having experienced profound love himself, Wesley possessed an intuitive understanding of a woman's affection toward a man. .
Francis replied coldly, "Your head isn't worth anything!"
"You!" Wesley was getting infuriated. "Let's make this interesting. Care for a wager? Do you believe if I say you're in trouble right now, Harper will rush over to your side?"
Francis neither confirmed nor denied it, keeping his lips tightly shut.
In order to prove himself right, Wesley directly called Harper on the phone and said, "Let's verify it. If I win, I want your yacht."
He had been eyeing that yacht for a while, but unfortunately, it was no longer in production, leaving him unable to acquire it.
Francis's phoenix-like eyes flickered for a moment, yet he made no attempt to halt it. Parting his lips ever so slightly, he uttered, "As you wish." In no time, the phone was answered.
Wesley's tone instantly changed. With a masterful display of acting prowess, he adopted an air of urgency and distress. "Harper, there's trouble! Francis collapsed and he's vomiting blood!"
On the other end of the phone, Harper had already finished getting ready and was about to leave responded hastily, "What happened? Where is he? Have you called an ambulance? Help him to the hospital, I'm on my way."
Harper said a series of words, and Wesley raised an eyebrow at Francis, indicating that he had won.
Francis's handsome eyebrows relaxed for a moment, and that overbearing low-pressure aura dissipated somewhat.
Wesley persisted in his exaggeration, "He indulged a bit too much at the bar, ended up vomiting blood. He's not himself. Please, hurry over."
By now, Harper had already put on her clothes, ready to leave.
But when she heard Wesley's next sentence, she abruptly stopped.
His foul mood likely stemmed from Chloe. They had recently settled on parting ways, agreeing only to meet for divorce proceedings. Naturally, Chloe would be the one he longed to see now.
Wesley urged on the other end of the line, "Be careful on your way, I'll be waiting here."
With that, he was about to hang up when…
"Wait."
Harper's voice came through, measured and deliberate. "Mr. Redstone, I won't be coming over. Could you please take him to the hospital yourself and inform Chloe directly if something like this occurs again, rather than reaching out to me?"
"Harper, he's coughing up blood, and you're refusing to come?"
Wesley's forehead glistened with sweat, perplexed by Harper's sudden reversal. Her tone moments ago had been urgent, but now she seemed resolute.
"I'm not a doctor either, and my presence won't change anything. Thank you for your concern, but I must end the call."
Before Wesley could react, the line went dead.
Stunned, Wesley realized the yacht was gone, slipping through his fingers like sand. Unwilling to accept defeat, he felt a surge of frustration.
Wesley refused to surrender. Determined to make one final attempt for the yacht, he resumed his flurry of phone calls.
"Regardless, she'll owe me after this."
"The number you have dialed is currently switched off."
After five fruitless attempts, Wesley finally managed to reach Harper's number again, only to find it still switched off.
Wesley was speechless.
"Did you make Harper angry again? This can't be possible," he muttered.
Based on how distraught Harper had been last night, it was impossible for her to not care about Francis. He could even twist his head and use it as a stool.
"Crash-"
With a loud crash, the man swept the table, sending bottles and utensils flying.
His expression was scarier than Satan's, and his palms were full of cuts from broken glass. But he didn't care at all.
"Bring the alcohol," he said.
Naturally, Wesley couldn't let him continue like this and stopped the waiter from serving alcohol.
If he kept drinking, he would die!
Robert paid no attention and twisted open a bottle of alcohol, viciously saying, "Women shouldn't be coddled. Drink up!"
Francis accepted the bottle without hesitation, skipping the formality of pouring, and downed its contents in a single gulp.
The strong alcohol burned his stomach fiercely!
One bottle, then another, and as he neared the end of the third, his endurance waned, and he collapsed with a resounding thud.
Moments before consciousness slipped away—
"Why?" he murmured, anguish coloring his words. "Why don't you want me?"
Clearwater Bay.
Harper lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Whenever she closed her eyes, she could see the expression in the man's phoenix-like eyes when he left, like a wounded puppy.
She forced a bitter smile. She was overthinking again.
Why would Francis be hurt? Other than Chloe, there shouldn't be anyone else who could make him feel this way.
She forced herself to sleep, closed her eyes, then opened them again, staring at the white ceiling. However, her thoughts had already drifted outside.
Wesley's voice didn't sound like a joke. He had been drinking so much that he vomited blood. Why would he ruin himself like this when his wound hadn't healed yet? Images of the scene where Francis threw himself over her for protection resurfaced in her mind.
Harper clenched the bedsheets and sat up abruptly. Since she was restless, so she decided to go and check on him. She told herself she would just take a quick peek, to see if he was okay.
The weather outside was gloomy as if it was about to rain. Harper hurriedly arrived at the hospital. She was about to call Wesley when someone tapped her shoulder.
"Harper, why are you here?" Keith was slightly surprised to run into her at the hospital. He didn't expect to see her there.
"I..." Harper was about to speak when she noticed the bandage on his hand. It looked like he just finished an intravenous infusion. She felt apologetic. "Keith, are you feeling better?"
Keith lowered his hand, hiding it from her view, and softly replied, "I'm fine."
Harper then remembered the phone call and awkwardly said, "Keith, about the phone call, I'm sorry."
There was a momentary hint of sadness in Keith's eyes behind his glasses, but it quickly disappeared. "It's okay, you don't need to apologize to me."
He noticed that Harper's face was pale as paper, with a slight bruise under her eye. "But why are you here so late instead of resting at home? What brings you to the hospital?"
Harper was about to explain when suddenly a figure rushed toward them, separating them.
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