Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress - Chapter 132

Chapter 132: I Know You
The car was silent following Emily’s rebuff. Callan didn’t answer. After a while he chuckled low under his breath as though what she had said was funny.

“I guess you don’t want peace. Let’s have it your way then,” he said easily.

Seeing how he seemed unaffected by her annoyance, Emily’s chest burn. Her fingers curled into fists on her lap and she turned her face to the window again, watching trees blur past.

The ride stretched on.

After a moment she took out her phone and dialed her father’s line to let him know she had arrived.

Catching her movement Callan turned to look at her, “I guess the princess wants to inform her daddy that she has arrived,” he said in a taunting tone, and she glared at him.

Instead of dialing her father’s line as she had wanted to, she decided to leave that for later when she was alone, and dialed Mari’s line instead.

It didn’t connect.

She frowned. “That’s strange.” She muttered.

Callan glanced at her. “What is?”

She ignored him and checked the time. Then she dialed Jamal’s number, not minding that it was almost midnight.

She knew that he would take her call. He answered on the second ring.

“Emily?” Jamal said, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Hey, Jamal. Sorry to disturb your sleep,” she said, figuring that he had been sleeping. “I just got to Husla. I can’t get hold of Mari. When last did you hear from her?”

Jamal hesitated. “I last heard from her when she was on her way back from the airport after seeing you off. Why don’t you call her Mom?” He asked, not wanting to respond to the question since he wasn’t sure how much information his aunt would want him to give to Mari.

“Oh! That’s even more weird. Alright, I’ll try to call her now. Talk to you much later,” Emily said, and hung up the call.

Callan didn’t say anything, but she could feel his curious gaze on her.

She ignored him as she dialed Mari’s mom. Mari’s Mom informed her that Mari was at the Island and would be there for a while hence she wouldn’t be reachable for a while.

“But she didn’t mention that to me,” Emily muttered with a frown as she hung up the call.

Why would Mari decide to go to the Island? She knew how much Mari hated the Island where she had spent the first five years of her life, especially because there was no network connection there.

She raised a brow when Callan reached into the center console, pulled out his phone, and tapped the screen.

“Why are you calling him now?” Emily asked sharply when she saw on the dashboard that he was calling her father.

“Why else but to inform him his princess has arrived safely?” Callan said simply, putting the call on speaker as it rang.

Emily scowled. “I can do that myself.”

“It is my phone not yours. I didn’t ask you not to,” he replied, just as the line connected.

“Callan,” came the deep voice of Emily’s father. “I guess you’ve picked her up?”

“Yes, sir,” Callan said, keeping his eyes on the road. “We’re on our way now.”

“Good. I know she can be a pain in the…”

“Dad!” Emily snapped, while Callan chuckled.

“Oh! I didn’t realize the call was on speaker,” Damon said with a chuckle.

“So you badmouth me this way?” Emily asked with a scowl.

“Yep, I always do,” her father said, and before Emily could respond a note of seriousness crept into his voice. “Callan, make sure she’s okay, please. Look out for her. She’s never been to Husla before.”

Emily sat up straighter. “Dad, I’m not a child.”

Callan bit back a grin and Emily shot him a glare.

“I never said you were,” her father said easily, while Callan remained silent, letting them both talk.

“But you’re treating me like one right now.”

“Sweetheart,” her father said, with a long-suffering sigh. “Just humor me, alright? It wouldn’t hurt to let Callan take care of you while you settle in. He knows the city better than anyone, and you—”

“I am an adult,” she interrupted. “I can take care of myself. What if Callan wasn’t in Husla? Wouldn’t you trust me to take care of myself?”

“Thankfully he’s there,” her father continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “you’d be better off having someone around who understands the place. This isn’t like home, Emmy. Husla can be… intense. Just give yourself time.”

Emily huffed and folded her arms.

“And while we’re at it,” her father added, “check your email. They should have sent you the brochure for the training by now.”

Emily turned her head away, muttering under her breath.

“Did she hear that?” her father asked.

“She did,” Callan replied cheerfully.

“Good. Orientation starts in two days. You’ll want to read that brochure before you show up at the hospital. Dr. Brent doesn’t like clueless residents.”

“I’m not clueless.”

“Of course not. You’re just new to this program. Same thing. I’ll feel better knowing you’ve read through it.”

“Fine.”

“Great. I have to run. Thanks Callan. I’ll leave Emily in your hands,” he said and the call ended.

Callan put the phone back in the console. “You heard that, right?”

Emily stayed silent, arms crossed tight against her chest, chin tipped up like a child who’d just been scolded in front of her least favorite person.

“Shouldn’t you be checking for the brochure? I’m surprised your father has to tell you to do that,” Callan said, flashing her a glance.

“I was going to do that before he mentioned it,” she snapped.

“What’s got you all riled up now?” He asked sweetly. “You mad your daddy made me your guardian?” Callan teased.

Emily said nothing as she dug into her bag and pulled out her phone to check her emails.

“I think it’s sweet,” he said smoothly with his solo conversation. “Your father thinks of you as a little lost kitten. All soft and helpless.”

Emily’s head whipped toward him. “I swear if you call me a kitten again—”

“Fine,” he said, holding up a hand. “Tiger cub. Still adorable, still needing supervision,” he said looking entirely too pleased with himself at getting under her skin.

His grin that grated on her nerves. She glared at him, teeth clenched. “I don’t need supervision.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “Sure you don’t.”

Silence stretched again between them as Email checked her email inbox.

Emily spotted a new message with the subject line: Welcome to Brent Residency – Orientation Package Attached.

She opened it reluctantly. There were three attachments: a thirty-page brochure, a schedule, and a PDF titled “Things to Know About Husla General Hospital.”

Her stomach flipped a little as she scrolled. She didn’t want to admit how much this scared her— being in a new environment, meeting new people, learning something new especially related to medicine which she wasn’t as passionate about as her writing.

She would have felt a whole lot better if she had someone else here to rely on instead of Callan.

Callan glanced at her, “You found the email?”He asked casually.

“Yes,” she muttered.

He was silent for a minute, “There’s nothing to be scared or worried about. You’ll do well as you’ve always done,” he said softly.

“I didn’t say I was scared or worried about anything,” she said with a scowl, annoyed that he could see through her so easily.

Callan shook his head, “You don’t have to say it. I know you better than you think.”

Emily snorted with indignation as she turned her head sharply to look at him. “You know me?” She asked, glaring at him angrily, “What exactly do you think you know about me, Callan Quinn?”

“All that there is to know,” he said, but he kept his gaze on the road, “And right now I know that you’re very mad at me. Em, you’re fighting with me all on your own. Eventually you’re going to wear yourself out with all that anger.”

“Go to hell.”

He grinned. “You already said that before.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, thanks,” he said, wondering when she was ever going to get tired of being mad.

Tired of talking to him, Emily slumped in her seat and stared out the window. The city of Husla slowly unfolding before them. Wide roads with fancy cars adorned with electronic billboards at the side and tall, gleaming building.

It was very foreign to her.

“Don’t worry,” Callan said, as if reading her thoughts. “You will survive this.”

She didn’t answer.

“I don’t suppose you came with a dinner gown, did you?” He asked, and she narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Callan chuckled, “I never asked you to. But you’d need one for the welcome dinner party. It’s in your brochure,” he said, and she raised a brow.

A dinner party?

She unlocked her phone to confirm what he had said and truly, it was stated there. First a dinner party to welcome all the residents so they could mingle and acquaint with each other, and then the orientation on Tuesday.

“How did you know about it? Do you have the brochure?” She asked, eyeing him with suspicion.

“Aren’t you being a little too curious about me now?” He asked sweetly, knowing she would back off, and she did.

“Whatever,” she muttered, turning away from him again.

“You didn’t answer the question. Do you have something to wear?” He asked, stopping her again.

“I’ll figure out something on my own. Thanks for your concern,” she muttered.

Callan knew her well enough to know she had not packed anything so he pulled into the next clothes store.

“I doubt you’d want me to go in with you, so go in and get yourself something nice. I know how much you love procrastinating. You only get one chance to make a good first impression,” he said, jerking his head to the building.

Emily inhaled deeply. Callan annoyed her with his whole back and forth routine. One minute he was being an annoying jerk, the next minute he was being kind and understanding.

“Thanks,” she murmured as she unfastened her seatbelt and started to get out of the car with her handbag.

“Use this,” he said, handing her his card.

“I have mine,” she muttered as she shut the door and walked away.

Callan let out a deep breath as he watched her go, and then he took out his phone and dialed his assistant’s line. “Look into someone named Dan Coleman. He’s one of Dr Brent’s new Residents.”