Lying there in the ward, it dawned on her that she had been rescued by someone.
With a sparkling curiosity, Stella leaned towards Oliver, her voice filled with hope.
“Who saved me last night?”
The idea of expressing her gratitude tugged at her thoughts.
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Oliver’s brows furrowed as he scratched his head, a sheepish look on his face.
“You know, Stella, I was pretty out of it last night.
Grandpa had to practically drag me to the hospital this morning.”
Clint’s eyes locked onto Oliver with an intense glare before he shifted his attention to Stella.
“It’s Maverick.”
“What? Maverick?” Stella’s eyes went as wide as saucers.
A softness crept into Clint’s expression as he nodded slowly, his relief evident.
“Yes, Stella, it’s none other than your husband, Maverick. He showed up just in time, got you here, and then informed me about it.”
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As Clint spoke of Maverick, his eyes seemed to glimmer with admiration, revealing a deeper layer of his feelings.
He turned his gaze to Oliver, his expression twisted in a mix of revulsion and disbelief.
“You’re so unreliable.”
Aware of his mistake, Oliver’s head drooped, words lodged in his throat.
Stella was completely shocked.
In a hushed voice, she kept repeating, “Maverick saved me? How on earth is that even possible?”
Maverick’s appearance didn’t come as a surprise. Although late, he must have arrived at the hotel.
But she and Maverick were on the brink of divorce. So, why would he swoop in to save her?
Stella’s mind raced to find an answer.
In stark contrast to her whirlwind of emotions, Clint remained remarkably composed.
“Maverick’s still your husband after all. It’s only natural he’d come through for you. No need to be so taken aback.”
The phone on the table jolted to life, catching Stella’s attention.