One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Chapter 30: Unspoken

Rachel’s POV

By the time we arrived at Rosa Villa, Marcus’s breathing had grown more labored, and Anna’s composed facade was beginning to crack around the edges. I parked as close to the entrance as possible, then rushed to open the back door.

"I’ll prepare a guest room," I said, hurrying ahead to unlock the door while Ms. Shaw helped Marcus from the car. His imposing height made the task difficult, but somehow she managed to support him as they slowly made their way inside.

I moved quickly through the villa, selecting the room that had until recently been Sean’s temporary quarters. It seemed the most appropriate clean, recently vacated, and on the ground floor, which would spare Mr. Murphy the effort of climbing stairs. I hastily changed the sheets and turned down the bed before rushing back to help.

Anna was guiding Marcus down the hallway, his arm draped heavily across her shoulders. Despite the obvious strain, she refused my offer of assistance with a quick shake of her head.

"Uncle Marcus," she said as she helped him onto the bed, "I’m sorry about the accommodations. This room was recently occupied, but it’s clean. You’ll have to make do until we figure out what to do next."

In the bright overhead light of the bedroom, the full extent of Marcus’s injury became visible. His black dress shirt was soaked through with blood, the dark fabric glistening wetly where it clung to his abdomen. As he shifted position, a fresh surge of crimson seeped between the fingers still pressed against the wound.

Anna’s reaction was immediate and visceral. Her face drained of all color, eyes widening in horror before she clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted from the room. The abrupt departure seemed to surprise even Marcus, whose eyebrows rose slightly despite his pain.

I rushed after Ms. Shaw, finding her hunched over the toilet in the adjacent bathroom. I grabbed a bottle of water from the nearby mini-fridge and hurried to her side.

"Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" I asked, concern overwhelming professional distance as I knelt beside her.

She waved me away weakly, still unable to speak as another wave of nausea overtook her.

"Go," she finally managed, her voice raw. "Check on Mr. Murphy."

I left the water within her reach and retrieved the first aid kit from the hall closet before returning to the guest room.

"Mr. Murphy, I apologize for Ms. Shaw’s absence," I explained, opening the medical kit. "She has a severe reaction to blood. The smell doesn’t bother her, but the sight..." I trailed off, handing him several sterile gauze pads. "She physically can’t handle it."

Something flickered in Marcus’s expression surprise.

"When did this start?" he asked, pressing the gauze against his wound with barely a wince.

"I’m not entirely sure," I answered, focusing on unpacking the first aid supplies. "She’s been this way since I started working for her. There was an incident once, on our way to the office. We came across a car accident, and Anna Ms. Shaw saw the driver crawling out of an overturned vehicle, covered in blood. She fainted on the spot, then woke up vomiting uncontrollably."

"Here," I offered, "these might help control the bleeding until the doctor arrives."

Marcus took the bandages with a steady hand that belied his condition.

"Go check on her," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I’m fine."

Just then, Oscar Porter came in a hurry, his medical bag clutched in one hand.

"Where is she?" he demanded without preamble, his voice tight with concern. "What happened? Why isn’t she at a hospital? Is she trying to bleed out in her living room?"

Before I could explain, Anna emerged from the bathroom. Her complexion was ashen, her usual confidence momentarily diminished by physical weakness. Still, she managed an eye roll at the doctor’s dramatic entrance.

"I didn’t call you here to lecture me," she said, leaning against the doorframe for support. "Your patient is in there."

Oscar blinked in surprise.

"What patient? Male or female?"

Oscar’s POV

I followed Rachel into the room and immediately assessed the scene with professional detachment. A man lay on the bed, one hand pressed firmly against his abdomen. His black clothing was soaked with blood, but his face remained remarkably composed.

"Dr. Porter," Rachel said formally, "this is Mr. Marcus Murphy."

I froze momentarily. Marcus Murphy? The Marcus Murphy? I’d never met him, but everyone in Skyview City knew of him. The genius businessman who’d built an empire in Europe. Jack Simpson’s uncle. The Murphy family’s golden son.

"So you’re Marcus Murphy," I said, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm from my voice. "First time meeting, though your reputation precedes you."

Before Rachel could finish introducing me, Murphy’s eyes met mine directly.

"Thank you for coming, Oscar," he said, his voice steady despite his condition.

The familiarity caught me off guard. I hadn’t been introduced yet, but he already knew my name. The realization sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. This man had likely investigated everyone in Anna’s circle including me and my brother, Logan.

"Let’s see what we’re dealing with," I said, snapping into professional mode as I approached the bed.

I donned gloves from my kit and reached for the medical scissors.

"I need to cut this shirt away."

Murphy simply nodded. I cut through the expensive black fabric, revealing the wound on his lower left abdomen.

It was a deep laceration, clean edged likely from a knife with a thin, sharp blade. Though bleeding steadily, it appeared to have missed vital organs.

"This is serious," I said, applying pressure while assessing the damage. "The wound is deep, but fortunately it doesn’t appear to have penetrated the abdominal cavity. It needs proper suturing, preferably in a hospital setting. I strongly recommend—"

"No hospital," Murphy interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Handle it here."

I raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze directly.

"Mr. Murphy, I don’t have proper anesthetics or a sterile environment here. Hospital would be the safest option."

"Just do it here," he repeated, unflinching.

I studied him for a moment, trying to understand his refusal. Was he running from something? Someone?

The knife wound certainly suggested trouble the kind that might follow him to a hospital.

"Fine," I conceded with a sigh. "But I want to state for the record that if infection or complications develop later, that’s not on me or my medical skills."

His mouth curved slightly.

"Understood. Proceed."

I took out the suture kit from my bag, preparing the area around the wound. The cut was approximately four inches long and would require at least fifteen stitches. As I cleaned the wound with antiseptic, I couldn’t help but notice his physical condition. Despite the injury, his body was in peak form well defined muscle structure, not an ounce of excess fat. This was a man who took exceptional care of himself.

"This will hurt," I warned.

He met my gaze evenly.

"I can handle it."

I began suturing without further comment. The needle pierced his skin, and I watched carefully for a reaction a flinch, a sharp intake of breath, anything. There was nothing. Not even a twitch.

Most men I’d treated would be gritting their teeth, gripping the bedsheets, or at least tensing their muscles. Marcus Murphy did none of these things.

As I continued working, my initial antagonism began to give way to reluctant respect. Whatever I thought of him personally, his self-control was remarkable. Each stitch closed the wound neatly, and still he showed no sign of discomfort beyond the occasional measured breath.

"Almost done," I murmured as I placed the final stitches. "You’re going to have a scar. Shame about those perfect abs."

Anna’s POV

Oscar had treated Marcus’s wound, and I walked into the room, still smelling of blood. One look at Marcus’s pale face made anxiety coil in my stomach. He didn’t show much emotion, but the sweat beading on his brow and the unnatural pallor of his lips said enough.

I asked Rachel to bring a warm towel, and just as I reached out to wipe his forehead, Oscar snatched it from my hands.

"I’ll do it. I’m the doctor taking care of patients is literally my job," he said, his tone oddly sharp.

Marcus and I both fell silent. Why did Oscar’s voice sound so... grating?

I mentally rolled my eyes but still asked, genuinely, "Uncle Marcus, how are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? Should I call Peter? Or Joseph?"

Oscar cut in before Marcus could respond. "Anna, what’s that supposed to mean? You doubt my skills now? Relax. Your Marcus uncle isn’t going to die."

The way he emphasized your Marcus uncle made it clear he wasn’t just being defensive. He was aiming that jab directly at Marcus. I sighed inwardly, reminded of how Oscar had objected to my marriage to Jack Simpson and had even confronted Jack about it. The two of them hadn’t spoken since.

Looking at Oscar now, the bitterness hit me back then, everyone had seen clearly but me.

I shot him a few warning glances. Don’t start. Marcus wasn’t Jack. The game was different this time. Besides, this was Marcus Murphy. I could reject his advances, but I couldn’t disrespect him.

Marcus spoke calmly. "No need. They’ll come after they’ve handled things."

When neither of us responded, he added, "Peter will find me."

A tightness gripped my chest. After they’ve handled things? I suddenly realized how little I truly knew about him. He was William Murphy’s youngest son, a force in the family’s financial empire... but beyond that?

Later, Oscar pulled me aside. "Logan mentioned once Marcus has enemies in Europe’s business circles. The market over there isn’t like America. That he built an empire there? That says everything. He’s ruthless. And you you just bring him into your home like it’s nothing?"

I quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Lower your voice. Do you want him to hear you?"

"That’s the idea," Oscar replied, raising his voice instead.

I dragged him to the living room. "If you’re really worried about me, then keep what happened today to yourself. Uncle Marcus has helped me a lot. I trust he has his own plans. He wouldn’t drag me into danger."

Oscar scoffed. "He hasn’t wronged me, no. But he’s obviously into you. And you still call him Uncle Marcus? You’ve got the nerve to say it, and he’s got the nerve to answer?"

His voice rose. "Haven’t you learned from Jack Simpson? Now you’re cozying up to the Murphy family? Do you know what you’re walking into? Have you forgotten how it ended last time? Already?"

He jabbed a finger at my forehead. Repeatedly.

I grabbed it. "Ow! Watch it! You’re going to break something."

He yelped. "Agh how can a woman like you have such bad taste in men? Maybe I should just stop caring."

I released him and sighed. "I know you care. And I appreciate it. But I’m not going to let any man control my life again. Not Marcus, not anyone."

I softened. "About the mansion in Skylake District... Regardless of his motives, I need to return the favor."

Oscar threw off his white coat. "Fine. I’m done worrying. Where do I sleep?"

"There are guest rooms upstairs. Take your pick they’re all clean."

When I returned to Marcus’s room with hot water, his gaze met mine. My heartbeat stumbled. Had he heard what Oscar said earlier?

"Uncle Marcus, feeling better? Want some water?" I kept my voice steady.

He didn’t answer immediately, just sat up slowly. I rushed to help him, propping pillows behind his back. My hand brushed his arm and under the crisp fabric of his shirt, I could feel lean muscle. He was strong. Solid.

He finished the water in one gulp.

"Want more?" I asked gently.

"No, thank you," he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

His voice... his look... for a strange moment, it reminded me of that night at the Sapphire Sky Hotel. Of the man who had kissed my back in the dark and asked if I wanted more. I had been too exhausted to answer. Too overwhelmed to move.

And just like that, I remembered I was supposed to meet him tonight.

A cold shock passed through me. It was already two in the morning.

I had intended to draw clear boundaries tonight. To keep things strictly physical between us going forward. But with everything that had happened with Marcus, I had completely forgotten.

And I never forget. noveldrama

"Uncle Marcus, would you like to lie down and rest?" I asked, reaching for my phone.

He noticed. "Is something wrong? It’s quite late."

"Nothing urgent. Just need to reply to a message," I said with a smile.

"Go ahead," he said smoothly. "I have something to tell you afterward."

I sat on the edge of the bed, quickly typing out a message:

[Sorry, something came up. Let’s reschedule.]

The second I hit send, Marcus’s phone lit up on the nightstand.

I glanced at it instinctively.

And in that instant, everything inside me went still. My mind blanked.

My heart skipped a beat.Anna’s POV

Oscar had treated Marcus’s wound, and I walked into the room, still smelling of blood. One look at Marcus’s pale face made anxiety coil in my stomach. He didn’t show much emotion, but the sweat beading on his brow and the unnatural pallor of his lips said enough.

I asked Rachel to bring a warm towel, and just as I reached out to wipe his forehead, Oscar snatched it from my hands.

"I’ll do it. I’m the doctor taking care of patients is literally my job," he said, his tone oddly sharp.

Marcus and I both fell silent. Why did Oscar’s voice sound so... grating?

I mentally rolled my eyes but still asked, genuinely, "Uncle Marcus, how are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? Should I call Peter? Or Joseph?"

Oscar cut in before Marcus could respond. "Anna, what’s that supposed to mean? You doubt my skills now? Relax. Your Marcus uncle isn’t going to die."

The way he emphasized your Marcus uncle made it clear he wasn’t just being defensive. He was aiming that jab directly at Marcus. I sighed inwardly, reminded of how Oscar had objected to my marriage to Jack Simpson and had even confronted Jack about it. The two of them hadn’t spoken since.

Looking at Oscar now, the bitterness hit me back then, everyone had seen clearly but me.

I shot him a few warning glances. Don’t start. Marcus wasn’t Jack. The game was different this time. Besides, this was Marcus Murphy. I could reject his advances, but I couldn’t disrespect him.

Marcus spoke calmly. "No need. They’ll come after they’ve handled things."

When neither of us responded, he added, "Peter will find me."

A tightness gripped my chest. After they’ve handled things? I suddenly realized how little I truly knew about him. He was William Murphy’s youngest son, a force in the family’s financial empire... but beyond that?

Later, Oscar pulled me aside. "Logan mentioned once Marcus has enemies in Europe’s business circles. The market over there isn’t like America. That he built an empire there? That says everything. He’s ruthless. And you you just bring him into your home like it’s nothing?"

I quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Lower your voice. Do you want him to hear you?"

"That’s the idea," Oscar replied, raising his voice instead.

I dragged him to the living room. "If you’re really worried about me, then keep what happened today to yourself. Uncle Marcus has helped me a lot. I trust he has his own plans. He wouldn’t drag me into danger."

Oscar scoffed. "He hasn’t wronged me, no. But he’s obviously into you. And you still call him Uncle Marcus? You’ve got the nerve to say it, and he’s got the nerve to answer?"

His voice rose. "Haven’t you learned from Jack Simpson? Now you’re cozying up to the Murphy family? Do you know what you’re walking into? Have you forgotten how it ended last time? Already?"

He jabbed a finger at my forehead. Repeatedly.

I grabbed it. "Ow! Watch it! You’re going to break something."

He yelped. "Agh how can a woman like you have such bad taste in men? Maybe I should just stop caring."

I released him and sighed. "I know you care. And I appreciate it. But I’m not going to let any man control my life again. Not Marcus, not anyone."

I softened. "About the mansion in Skylake District... Regardless of his motives, I need to return the favor."

Oscar threw off his white coat. "Fine. I’m done worrying. Where do I sleep?"

"There are guest rooms upstairs. Take your pick they’re all clean."

When I returned to Marcus’s room with hot water, his gaze met mine. My heartbeat stumbled. Had he heard what Oscar said earlier?

"Uncle Marcus, feeling better? Want some water?" I kept my voice steady.

He didn’t answer immediately, just sat up slowly. I rushed to help him, propping pillows behind his back. My hand brushed his arm and under the crisp fabric of his shirt, I could feel lean muscle. He was strong. Solid.

He finished the water in one gulp.

"Want more?" I asked gently.

"No, thank you," he said, his eyes lingering on mine.

His voice... his look... for a strange moment, it reminded me of that night at the Sapphire Sky Hotel. Of the man who had kissed my back in the dark and asked if I wanted more. I had been too exhausted to answer. Too overwhelmed to move.

And just like that, I remembered I was supposed to meet him tonight.

A cold shock passed through me. It was already two in the morning.

I had intended to draw clear boundaries tonight. To keep things strictly physical between us going forward. But with everything that had happened with Marcus, I had completely forgotten.

And I never forget.

"Uncle Marcus, would you like to lie down and rest?" I asked, reaching for my phone.

He noticed. "Is something wrong? It’s quite late."

"Nothing urgent. Just need to reply to a message," I said with a smile.

"Go ahead," he said smoothly. "I have something to tell you afterward."

I sat on the edge of the bed, quickly typing out a message:

[Sorry, something came up. Let’s reschedule.]

The second I hit send, Marcus’s phone lit up on the nightstand.

I glanced at it instinctively.

And in that instant, everything inside me went still. My mind blanked.

My heart skipped a beat.