Let Me Go, Mr. Howard Chapter 157

"Is that a problem?" Sebastian glanced up briefly, eyes sweeping across Scarlett's face before returning to his work. "You need complete rest. I'll take you home this afternoon."

His tone left no room for objection—everything already decided.

"I still have work to do," Scarlett protested.

Sebastian studied her, tapping his pen thoughtfully against his chin. "You mean the project with Ian? Orion has already said that project is canceled."

This casual mention of Orion caught Scarlett's attention. She'd almost forgotten that Sebastian and Orion were underground allies. 

With an incident like this, Orion would certainly want to address the situation.

"I'll have Libbie prepare a wheelchair for you later," Sebastian continued without pause.

"It's just a sprained ankle," she emphasized, frowning.

But Sebastian had already accepted earbuds from Mark and positioned his tablet on the desk, launching into fluent conversation in a foreign language. Work mode: engaged.

Resigned, Scarlett settled back to play games on her phone. Hatty had bombarded her with messages about the incident:

[I can't believe Ian was such a creep! Thank goodness Ms. Gomez was with you. If you'd gone alone, who knows what might have happened!]

[I heard Ms. Gomez was in the military before. Amazing! When she returned, Mr. Watson personally received her. Looks like she'll get quite a bonus!]

After an hour of silence, Hatty continued:

[I found out! That Ian is Aaron Sanders' brother-in-law. No wonder he was so arrogant! But he picked the wrong target with you! You're Mr. George Howard's goddaughter and Mr. Sebastian Howard's godsister! He's definitely going to be taught a lesson!]

Scarlett smiled at Hatty's presumptuous tone—as if she were talking about herself. She was about to caution against such entitled thinking when another message arrived:

[OMG! Ms. Gomez received a $50,000 bonus! FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS! Wow, why couldn't it have been me?]

[Ms. Seymour, next time you MUST take me with you. I would absolutely protect you just as well!]

This was followed by several eager emojis.

Scarlett laughed despite her annoyance. Did Hatty think she was an ATM? She shifted position to type: [Sounds like you're hoping I'll get into trouble again?]

Hatty's apology came immediately:

[No, no, that's not what I meant at all! Of course I want Ms. Seymour to be safe and healthy!]

[The project department needs some files from me. Must go now! Get well soon, Ms. Seymour!]

Scarlett's smile widened at this hasty retreat.

"What's so amusing?" Sebastian's voice carried over from his makeshift office.

From her reclined position, she could only see his long legs in tailored suit pants and his gleaming leather shoes, one leg extended to occasionally reveal flashes of red sole.

"Nothing," she answered, trying to look away but finding herself strangely captivated by the angle.

Sebastian rested his chin on one hand, his tone casual. "Really?"

"Why would I lie about it?" Scarlett mumbled, shifting back to a more comfortable position for her neck.

---

By noon, Libbie arrived perspiring from her rush, with Teddy and Mark in tow. Since Scarlett couldn't leave her bed, Teddy brought in a dining table while Mark helped with the cutlery.

"That leg is certainly elevated," Libbie remarked with a teasing smile. "Look at you, finally forced to take it easy for a while."

"It's not serious—the doctor said so," Scarlett replied dismissively.

Libbie shook her head, thinking to herself that this was typical of a first pregnancy—not realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Better safe than sorry," she cautioned aloud. "You were lucky this time that someone caught you. Next time, it might not be just a sprained ankle."

She carefully lifted the towel to check the ankle. "Wow, it was this swollen?"

Just then, a nurse entered to remove the ice pack. Hearing Libbie's comment, she frowned. "What? Still swollen?"

Ice packs couldn't be used continuously—only for twenty minutes at a time, three or four times daily. Yet Scarlett had already had nearly three applications with no significant improvement.

The nurse's expression turned serious as she hurried over to examine the ankle.

"Is something wrong?" Libbie asked, growing concerned.

Sebastian had already set down his pen, watching intently while the two men at the table occasionally glanced back.

Scarlett grew anxious, fearing the nurse would recommend medication. She clutched the blanket tightly, heart pounding.

"Something's not quite right, but don't worry. I'll call the doctor," the nurse said reassuringly before quickly leaving.

The doctor arrived promptly, by which time Sebastian had moved to the bedside to examine Scarlett's foot himself.

Being the center of attention made Scarlett uncomfortable. She curled her toes and tried to withdraw her leg.

"Don't move," Sebastian commanded, his hand firmly holding her calf in place.

The doctor lifted the towel, carefully pressing the swollen area, then rotated her foot gently. "Does this hurt?"

Scarlett shook her head.

He increased pressure gradually. When he reached a certain point, Scarlett let out a muffled groan.

"It's nothing serious," he concluded, releasing her foot. "Continue with ice packs and rest. After forty-eight hours, switch to warm compresses, every two to three hours."

Scarlett immediately felt relieved.

Sebastian carried her to the dining table where Libbie busily filled her plate. "Eat more—you need extra nourishment for that ankle."

Scarlett was puzzled—it was just a sprained ankle, why did she need special nutrition? Still, she focused on her food without questioning.

That evening, Scarlett was discharged. Her ankle remained slightly swollen, wrapped in an elastic bandage for gentle compression.

As they reached the hospital entrance, a familiar voice called out:

"Scar-Bear?"