I Want a Divorce Every Day, But the Superstar Says No-Chapter 131: I Am Your Backer

Riventon Hospital.

Durrell Landon carried Quiana Sutton into the hospital room, her body covered in dirt, looking completely battered and disheveled.

He carefully placed her onto the hospital bed.

Oliver Gale got the news and rushed over from the villa. Seeing Quiana Sutton covered in wounds, he was a bit surprised.

"What happened? Who could have hurt her this badly?"

"Check first for any internal injuries, I’ll take care of the external ones."

He was about to step forward to examine her, but was stopped by Durrell Landon grabbing his wrist: "What do you think you’re doing?"

Oliver: "..."

"I’m obviously checking for internal injuries."

"Aren’t you known for being able to tell someone’s condition with just a glance? Do you really need to touch?"

Did Durrell Landon consider his eyes X-rays? Able to see through clothes to her organs?

He grumbled inwardly, but still explained, "Even in Chinese medicine, you’ve got to feel the pulse. If I’m standing a meter away, how am I supposed to check her wounds?"

Durrell Landon gave him a sidelong glance: "Then go find a female doctor."

Oliver: "..."

Isabelle Somerville, who had been standing just outside the hospital room, peeked in cautiously, wanting to see how Quiana Sutton was doing, but the men inside were just too frightening.

Those cold eyes, dark as the devil’s—just a glance and her legs went weak.

She really couldn’t reconcile this with the gentle Durrell Landon she had watched on the screen so many times.

Of course, she was even more baffled about the relationship between Quiana Sutton and Durrell Landon. Seeing how nervous he was, how familiar he was in holding her, it was as if he’d done it thousands of times before.

She definitely didn’t believe it had anything to do with acting.

"What are you doing?"

A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder. Isabelle hurriedly slapped her hand over her mouth, nearly screaming, glaring at the man who’d appeared in front of her.

"Who are you?"

"Riventon Hospital is mine, so who do you think I am? But you, sneaking around outside the hospital room, I have reason to suspect you’re up to no good. I can have you arrested."

Julian Haworth, who’d previously spent a long time bedridden due to injuries, was finally allowed to get up and walk around. He happened to see Durrell Landon carrying Quiana Sutton into the hospital.

He’d watched clearly the day Quiana Sutton handled those bodyguards for him. He really couldn’t imagine who could have hurt her so badly.

He didn’t dare barge into the hospital room and cause trouble, but he hadn’t expected to find someone sneaking around outside.

Arms crossed, he looked at Isabelle Somerville, half-smiling: "What are you up to out here? If you don’t explain yourself, I’ll really have you arrested."

Already on edge from the kidnapping, Isabelle’s nerves were stretched thin, and now, with Julian Haworth’s threats, she couldn’t hold it together—her eyes instantly welled with tears.

Julian Haworth was momentarily bewildered. Seriously, he hadn’t even said much, so why was she crying?

Very annoyed, he said: "Stop crying. Fine, I won’t have you arrested, okay?"

To his surprise, Isabelle only cried harder after he said that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw Durrell Landon shoot him an unhappy look, scaring him into dragging Isabelle away.

He finally understood: whenever Durrell was dealing with anything related to Quiana Sutton, logic went completely out the window.

...

The female doctor examined Quiana Sutton and confirmed that aside from some surface injuries, there were no internal wounds. As for why she’d fainted, it was most likely due to emotional shock and overwhelming stress on her nerves.

Durrell Landon nodded and politely thanked her.

The female doctor was quite curious, but Riventon Hospital strictly forbade gossiping about patients, so she swallowed her questions.

Quiana Sutton knew she was dreaming; watching the images flow through her mind, she couldn’t break free.

Up until she was ten, she’d had a brother who pampered her, a father who loved her, and a grandfather who, stern as he was, was also tender. Those scenes played before her eyes—so familiar they were etched in her bones, yet so distant it felt like a century ago.

——Brother, I want to play too.

Her brother was a once-in-a-century prodigy, good at anything, whether shooting or fencing—he’d never come in second place.

Once, at the shooting range, she’d wanted to try his gun, but he’d stopped her.

He smiled and stroked her head.

——No way, you’re still too little. You can’t handle the recoil. When you turn ten, I’ll design a one-of-a-kind handgun just for you, okay?

But...

Even such a simple wish would never come true again.

That blood-splattered figure haunted her vision, the whole scene shrouded in bloody mist, threatening to suffocate her consciousness.

Just as she was about to be swallowed by the blood-red haze, she suddenly remembered those anxious eyes before she fainted. She snapped her eyes open—and met Durrell Landon’s gaze, his black pupils filled completely with her reflection.

She instinctively raised her hand. Splitting pain shot through her right wrist, and she could faintly smell blood beneath the bandages. But she ignored the pain, touching his face, her voice blurred and unreal: "Durrell Landon—"

Durrell Landon looked at her, full of worry: "You’re finally awake?"

Quiana Sutton managed a weak smile: "No matter where I am, even if I’m in danger, you’ll always find me, won’t you?"

Durrell Landon pressed his palm gently to the back of her hand, his eyes naked with obsession and longing: "Yes. No matter where you are, I’ll always find you."

He held her hand, carefully placing a soft kiss on her palm, his movements delicate and protective.

His long lashes trembled slightly, the lamp casting a faint shadow over his straight nose.

"I’m your shelter. If anything like this happens again, call me—I’ll handle it for you."

Shelter.

How many years had it been since she’d heard that word?

The words echoed in her mind, leaving her absent for a moment.

She had to admit, in that instant her heart softened just a little.

Durrell Landon remembered something important:

"Oh right, you seemed to be in a lot of pain just now? Is something still wrong? Should I get Oliver to check you again?"

Quiana Sutton quickly stopped him: "It was just a nightmare, no need to bother him."

Suddenly, she remembered something, "Wait, what about Joy? Did she get rescued?"

The moment he heard that name, Durrell Landon’s mood soured. If not for Isabelle Somerville, Quiana would never have gotten hurt.

"What happened?"

Quiana Sutton lowered her eyes:

"It’s my fault. I had a disagreement with Lilian. Somehow she found out Joy was my friend, so she kidnapped her to get at me."