The next morning, Amelia Clarke received a phone call from her mother.
"Amelia, your aunt called last night and said that you... you hit Ciara, did this happen?"
Amelia Clarke didn't speak.
At this moment, silence was tantamount to admission.
"Amelia, your uncle has been good to us. If Ciara did something that upset you, don't take it to heart. Go to your uncle's house today and apologize to Ciara..."
Amelia Clarke remained silent.
"Amelia..." her mother's voice was tinged with pleading.
"Mom," Amelia Clarke spoke softly, her voice so void of emotion it was almost indifferent, "you said it yourself, the one who has been kind to us is our uncle, not Ciara Taylor. She needed to be taught a lesson, and I won't apologize for that. If she provokes me again, I'll do the same."
There was a pause of silence on the other end.
"Amelia, I'm begging you. If it wasn't for your uncle, your brother wouldn't be able to afford his special school, and who knows how much he would be bullied. And you, if it weren't for your uncle paying for your education, have you thought about where you'd be now? I don't care who is right or wrong between you and Ciara, you need to go and apologize."
Amelia Clarke's fingers tightened around her phone.
"I won't..." She intended to be stubborn still.
"Amelia... cough, cough! Mother knows you must have been wronged, it's all my fault for being incapable, for not keeping our home, for not holding on to your father. Otherwise... otherwise, you wouldn't have to struggle so much..." Olivia Wilson choked up as she spoke.
"Mom, stop it," Amelia Clarke gently cut her off, relenting, "I'll apologize, don't cry."
"Amelia..." Olivia Wilson's voice was filled with distress and guilt.
"I'm fine, Mom," Amelia Clarke's voice was light, "I made some money from my part-time job recently. I'll transfer some to you in a bit. Let's leave it at that, I haven't gotten out of bed yet. I'm hanging up."
After ending the call, Amelia Clarke sat on the bed for a moment, her gaze empty, then she got up, dressed, and washed up.
Once everything was in order, she drew back the curtains. Outside, the sky was overcast, as if it was about to rain.
The bare treetops foreshadowed that winter was not yet over.
Amelia Clarke didn't eat breakfast but went to the bank to transfer money before heading directly to work.
Just like the day before, she rushed to her home tutoring job right after finishing one job.
When she left her student's house, it was already nine o'clock at night.
She had left half an hour earlier that day.
Because she had to visit The Taylors, to apologize to Ciara Taylor.
Fearing she wouldn't have enough time to return to school, she took a taxi.
When she arrived outside Thayton Villa, forty minutes had passed.
The villa was brightly lit, the yard planted with many evergreens, looking lush in contrast to the denuded branches outside her dormitory window.
A servant led her through the mansion's doors, and as she swapped her shoes in the foyer, she could faintly hear laughter occasionally emanating from the living room.
But as soon as she entered the living room, the laughter vanished.
When Ciara Taylor saw her, her face turned cold, and she said mockingly, "What are you doing at my house? Are you short of money again?"
Sherry Taylor stood up, greeting her with a friendly demeanor, "Amelia, you're here. Come and sit."
Mia Taylor forced a stiff smile at the corners of her mouth.
Isaac Taylor looked at Amelia Clarke without a word.
Amelia Clarke first greeted Isaac Taylor and Mia Taylor: "Good evening, Uncle, Aunt." Then she turned to Ciara Taylor, "I was wrong last night. I shouldn't have hit you just because you said some unpleasant things, I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
The moment those words were spoken, anyone with a bit of sense would ponder the truth of the matter.
Often, it's not only the person who resorts to violence that is at fault.
Sure enough, Isaac Taylor asked, "What did Ciara say?"
What did she say? Ciara Taylor called Olivia Wilson a homewrecker, saying she seduced Isaac Taylor.
With Isaac Taylor's chauvinistic mindset, if he knew that his daughter was slandering him behind his back like that, he would probably fly into a rage.
Amelia Clarke smiled wryly: "My cousin said..."
"Amelia Clarke!" Ciara Taylor interrupted her before she could continue, pointing at her angrily and declaring, "Don't spout nonsense here. I merely said that your whole family is parasitic, living off our money for everything from food to shelter, and you couldn't stand it, so you slapped me..."
As she spoke, Ciara Taylor started crying, thrusting her still-swollen half of her face in front of Isaac Taylor and Mia Taylor and said pitifully, "Dad, Mom, look, it hurts so much!"
Mia Taylor tenderly held Ciara Taylor's face and blew on it, her tone half blaming and half sympathetic, "You too, why say things like 'parasite'? Your cousin and her family are our relatives. Her mother was abandoned by a man ten years ago, and her brother is, well, special. It's only right for us to look after them. Don't talk like that again, do you understand?"
"Amelia, Ciara has been spoiled by me since she was little. If she speaks her mind again and upsets you, don't take it to heart. Think of her as your sister and indulge her a bit..."
Soft words can cause harm no less severe than knives and guns.
Amelia Clarke stood there demurely, "Mm, I will, auntie. If there's nothing else, I should head back to school now."
When she came out of the western-style house, the sky, which had been overcast all day, finally started to rain.
Seeing this, a servant asked her, "Miss Carter, did you bring an umbrella? If not, let me get one for you."
Amelia Clarke was about to decline when Ciara Taylor burst out from inside, berating the servant, "You didn't pay for that umbrella out of your own pocket, did you? Saying you'll give it to someone just like that. It's fine to give it away, but you could be choosy about who to give it to... don't just offer it to anybody..."
"Ciara!" Isaac Taylor came over with a stern voice.
Ciara Taylor, unwilling to back down, closed her mouth and glared at Amelia Clarke before turning and running off.
Isaac Taylor turned to Amelia Clarke, "Don't be upset, I'll take you back."
Amelia Clarke smiled, "No need, uncle, I've called a taxi."
"I'll get the car from the garage." Isaac Taylor didn't give her a chance to refuse again.
The rain was heavy outside, and the wind was strong, bone-chillingly cold.
Amelia Clarke stood under the loggia at the entrance of Thayton Villa, her long hair fluttering in the wind. Her porcelain-like pale face appeared even more delicate under the dim porch light. Her long eyelashes drooped, hiding the storm of emotions in her eyes.
Isaac Taylor drove the car up, and she got in.
The black sedan traveled through the misty rain of Capital City.
"Amelia, when did you meet Owen Moreland?"
Amelia Clarke's eyelashes trembled, "I don't know him."
"Is that so?" Isaac Taylor laughed, "I thought you knew each other the way he stepped in to help you that day."
Amelia Clarke didn't continue the conversation.
Isaac Taylor added, "It's better that you don't know him. A man like Owen Moreland isn't someone you should get involved with. Be careful around him in the future."
A red light ahead.
Isaac Taylor stopped the car and glanced in the rearview mirror. The girl had her head bowed slightly, her face clean and delicate, exuding a unique refreshing aura. She was like a lily in a mountain valley at dawn, dew-kissed and softly fragrant.
He felt a tug at his heartstrings and reached out to hold Amelia Clarke's small hand.
Amelia Clarke started, instinctually shaking off his hand.
Without a word, she opened the car door and fled.
She wasn't a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl who didn't understand anything anymore. Some things, a look, a gesture, she already understood what they meant.
She didn't know how long she had been walking on the road, falling several times, and getting back up again. The icy rain soaked through her clothes and hair, leaving her feeling numb, unable to sense the cold or the pain.
Across the street was a bus station with buses going directly to Bordine University.
Amelia Clarke hurried over.
Just a couple of steps in,
Screech—"!
An urgent braking noise tore through the rain.
Benjamin Richardson cursed, "shit!" He had hit someone for the second day in a row.
Getting out of the car, he exploded again, "Damn!"
It was the same person he had hit twice in a row.
Picking up the unconscious Amelia Clarke, he walked over to the back door of the car and knocked on the window. The window rolled down to reveal Owen Moreland's handsome and mature face.
"Mr. Moreland, it's Miss Carter. We..."
Before he could finish, Owen Moreland opened the car door and got out, taking Amelia Clarke from his arms and holding her against his chest as he sat back in the car. He then placed her on his lap, holding her like a child.
"To the hospital," he commanded quietly.
Benjamin Richardson paused in surprise for a second, then got in and drove toward the hospital.
Owen Moreland had a mild obsession with cleanliness, always mindful of hygiene. Yet, tonight, he held a girl drenched and muddy without a hint of disgust—a strange occurrence indeed.