Tempting Him to Lose Control

Chapter 145: Chapter 145: I Took This Slap for Him

At four in the morning, the sky already light, Claire Kendall and Miles Warren finally returned to Regency Gardens.

She sat him down on the bed and went straight for his pants.

"I can do it."

Claire Kendall pushed his hand away. "Don’t move. I want to check the wound on your leg."

Miles Warren was truly exhausted. After six hours of intense concentration, the muscles in his arms trembled now that he was finally able to relax.

Claire Kendall deftly slid his pants off. The gauze dressing behind his left knee had come loose. She carefully unwrapped it, layer by layer. The wound was mostly healed, but the edges were still a bruised, purplish-blue.

She brought over a hot towel, knelt by his leg, and gently pressed the compress to the area.

Claire Kendall tilted her head up to look at him.

His eyes were closed, long lashes casting faint shadows below. His breathing was a little heavy.

"Dr. Warren."

"Mm," he hummed, his voice languid.

"Do you get nervous when you’re performing surgery?"

"Yes. Nerves are an essential part of being a doctor. You have to stay on high alert to make sure nothing goes wrong."

Claire Kendall recalled the image of the couple kneeling and bowing their heads to the floor in the corridor.

She had been a nervous wreck just waiting outside. She could only imagine the immense pressure he was under in the operating room, bearing the weight of the family’s hopes.

Her nose tingled with emotion. "Dr. Warren, you should sleep. Get some rest."

Lying on the bed, Miles Warren turned his head to look at her. "Aren’t you going to sleep?"

"I am. I’m just going to wash up first."

After changing, Claire Kendall tiptoed out of the bathroom, careful not to wake him.

The man on the bed was already sound asleep, his breathing deep and even.

She stood by the bed watching him, her mind filled with the image of him in his white coat—calm, professional, and composed.

She’d once found him cold and aloof, utterly detached. Yet every patient he treated, no matter how minor their case, received a unique, handwritten medical file from him.

’Dr. Warren is their last hope.’

In a flash, inspiration struck. She grabbed her iPad, the stylus flying across the screen.

She transformed the silhouette of a doctor’s white coat into a loose-fitting knit cardigan over a T-shirt. A unique iris design adorned the chest—not delicate in the slightest, but rather clean and sharp.

Just like Miles Warren.

Claire Kendall drew from just after four until eight in the morning, producing nearly thirty design sketches in one continuous burst of creativity. The silhouettes and details of each design captured the essence of a different profession—restrained and resolute, exuding a captivating intensity that made it impossible to look away.

Claire Kendall compiled the designs and sent them to the OCHH designers’ group chat.

The chat instantly blew up.

Such an ingenious angle—designing menswear based on professions, yet every single piece was uniquely distinctive.

"I’ll contact the workshop to make samples immediately. We can have prototypes ready the day after tomorrow!"

"This collection is going to be a massive hit!"

"OMG, Nati is a literal goddess!"

...

The praise kept flooding in.

Claire Kendall sent a message.

"Everyone, let’s move fast. In three days, we’re holding the launch event for the new Urban Traveler collection."

Back at the office, Ian Rhodes flipped through the design sketches, his fingers clenching into a fist. Others might not have noticed, but he saw it clearly.

The male model in every sketch was faceless, but they were all clearly Miles Warren. Even the style of the clothing was steeped in the man’s very essence.

’Claire, what in the world has gotten into you?’

’Even when she was with Jacob Sinclair, she never became so obsessed that she couldn’t keep her personal and professional lives separate!’

His expression hardened as he replied: "Got it."

「Three days later.」

The lights of the Aethel Convention Center were dazzling.

The seats on both sides of the stage were filled with media specially invited by OCHH, as well as industry peers who had come to see what the buzz was about.

Claire Kendall, dressed in a light gray pantsuit with her long hair swept into a neat bun, took the stage to give the opening address.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the OCHH new collection launch. This Urban Traveler series features a range of professional-style apparel tailored specifically for men."

She stood in the spotlight, concisely and powerfully explaining her design philosophy.

"The core inspiration for the Urban Traveler concept comes from a doctor. Through the lines and forms of the clothing, I hope to express the strength that comes from unwavering conviction..."

Before she could finish, the main doors of the convention center were flung open with a clamor.

"Inspired by a doctor? How dare you stand there and spout such shameless nonsense!"

"Claire Kendall, how can you still be holding a launch party?"

"Murderer! You’re a murderer, too!"

Several sharp, piercing shouts erupted as a few people fought past security guards, desperately trying to rush inside.

Claire Kendall recognized one of them as a relative of the critically ill infant from the ICU. Her brow furrowed, and she immediately started down from the stage.

The reporters, sensing a major scandal, all aimed their cameras—long lenses and short—at the people causing the disturbance.

"Claire Kendall! Your husband, Miles Warren, killed my eight-month-old niece!"

"She was so little! It was Miles Warren who killed her! All of you, get your pictures of her—the murderer’s wife!"

The media erupted into an uproar. To the side of the stage, the male models waiting for their cue exchanged confused glances, unsure of what was happening.

Claire Kendall’s heart lurched, and a chill spread through her entire body.

’That eight-month-old baby... she died?’

’But Miles resuscitated her that day... he saved her...’

Ian Rhodes rushed over and shouted for security. "Get these people out of here!"

"We’re a fashion design company. A medical incident has nothing to do with us."

The family member grew even more agitated. "Nothing to do with you? Miles Warren is your husband, isn’t he?!"

"You were at the hospital that day, too! How is it none of your business? I’m telling you, both you and Miles Warren will get what’s coming to you. You’ll both pay for this!"

"That heartless monster, Dr. Warren, has already been suspended for investigation! He’s going to end up in prison!"

Claire Kendall’s face was deathly pale, and her ears were ringing. She stood frozen beside the stage as camera flashes popped incessantly, the bursts of light blooming and fading in her vision.

"Claire!" Wendy White rushed over to shield her. "Don’t engage with them. We’ll call the police!"

"Ian," Claire Kendall said, struggling to keep her voice calm. "You’ll have to finish the rest of the launch event. The collection showcase and the interviews—it’s all on you."

"Claire, where are you going? To the hospital? You can’t!"

"I have to go now!" Claire Kendall practically shouted, her eyes instantly turning red.

Claire Kendall turned and ran out through a backstage corridor, hailed a taxi, and sped straight toward Aethel General Hospital.

A crowd had gathered at the entrance to the emergency department building. The infant’s parents were there, hysterical, screaming wildly.

"Your hospital is protecting a murderer!"

"Miles Warren, what kind of a doctor are you?!"

Security guards formed a line, holding them back.

Miles Warren stood opposite them, his gaze dark. There was a visible scratch on his left cheek, his white coat was torn, and his arms were covered in more scratch marks.

Several people broke through the security line.

"You killed my daughter! I hope you rot in hell!"

The infant’s father, his eyes bloodshot, lunged at him.

A huge hand swung up, aiming another slap at Miles Warren’s face.

Miles Warren didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his expression placid, not even batting an eye.

All the blood rushed to Claire Kendall’s head.

She didn’t stop to think.

She lunged forward, slamming her shoulder into the man’s arm and shielding Miles Warren with her own body.

SLAP!

The slap landed squarely across her face.

It was harder than she could have imagined. Claire Kendall’s head whipped to the side, her temple throbbing as if struck by a hammer. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

The emergency lobby fell instantly silent.

Claire Kendall’s fingers trembled, but her voice was cold and steady.

"I took that slap for my husband."

She stared at the man, then swept her gaze across the other furious family members, enunciating every word.

"If you dare touch him again... If you’re ready to throw your lives away over this, then so am I."

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