Chapter 7 Saving The Situation

Layla turned around and saw the familiar figure. Clark was sitting in his wheelchair, looking majestic and regal. His voice immediately quieted them down.

"Honey, leave the rest to me." He swiveled his wheelchair toward Layla and held her soft hand.

She trembled. However, remembering they had to act like a loving couple, Layla didn't withdraw her hand.

"I can handle it myself," she said stubbornly.

Their marriage was just nominal. She felt it was better if they didn't get involved with each other.

Clark frowned at her stubbornness. She was already so angry at the caregiver that tears filled her eyes, but she still refused his help so that she could distance herself from him.

At the thought of it, Clark grew frustrated. He deliberately kissed the back of her hand, faking intimacy. "You are my wife. How will I let you suffer?" His voice was intoxicating.

For some reason, Layla felt warm in her heart. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, he warned, "You're my wife, so act like one."

Following his gaze, she saw two men in black hiding at a distance, pretending to be indulged in a conversation. She closed her eyes and nodded in understanding. "Okay."

"It's all about money, right? Why don't you just pay her?" Clark smiled generously.

"Who do you think you are?" the caregiver said with a sneer. "How could a disabled man in shabby clothes like you afford to pay my fees? Stop bragging."

Clark was wearing a simple outfit, so the caregiver couldn't estimate his background or financial position. Considering he was Layla's husband, she naturally assumed he was poor.

"How dare you speak ill of my husband!" Layla clenched her fists and glared at the middle-aged woman in front of her.

However, Clark seemed strangely calm. "How much do you want?"

"Three hundred a day, nine thousand a month. Can you afford it?" The woman scoffed.

"Only nine thousand?" he asked, scrunching his nose in disdain.

"Then give it to me now!" she asked greedily.

"Before that, I want you to prove that you've been working all day and that my wife has only paid half a day's salary," said Clark.

The caregiver gulped; sweat beaded her forehead. The salary record would expose her lie, so she quickly shook her head.

"No, in fact, she hasn't paid me even a penny."

"Then prove it. If my wife didn't pay you, why were you working for her? If you don't have any evidence, I'll sue you."

The caregiver looked like a deer caught under headlights. She realized she was in trouble. She glared at Layla and turned to leave.

"Did I allow you to go?"

Everyone let out a startled gasp. The caregiver looked at Clark in disbelief as he held Layla's hand supportively.

"You have ruined my wife's reputation. You have to apologize to her." Clark looked up, and his icy gaze bore into the caregiver's eyes. "You have to kneel down and apologize to her. Otherwise, you will have to go to jail."

Hearing the commotion downstairs, the director of the hospital came to see Clark in person.

"Mr. Smith, we have arranged a VIP ward and two caregivers. We will be transferring the patient there shortly."

The Smith family was powerful and wealthy. Although there was a rumor that they would go bankrupt soon, the director of the hospital still revered Clark.

The caregiver's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped as she looked at Clark in disbelief. She couldn't fathom why the director of their hospital was being polite and respectful to a disabled man and a country girl.

Hearing the entire story, the director cast a scornful look at the caregiver. "You are fired! Go to the finance department to settle your accounts."

Dejected, the caregiver left the place with her head down. Clark turned around and looked at the onlookers. "Who said my wife didn't have money and owed salary to the caregiver?"

Hearing the threat, the crowd dispersed.

"Why did you do that? Didn't we agree not to interfere in each other's affairs?" Layla said with mixed feelings in her heart.

"Do you think I will watch others bully my wife?" he retorted.

"But the fees for the VIP ward and hiring two caregivers would cost a bomb. You'll go broke soon. You can use it to save your company."

"That's my business!" Clark snorted. "But why can't you, the daughter of the Reed family, afford a better caregiver?"

"That's my business!" Layla imitated him.

Gone was his good mood. Leaning back in the wheelchair, Clark studied Layla's face for a moment and asked the question that had been bothering him for a while. "What's the relationship between you and that patient?"