Upon hearing the voice, the man turned around quickly, his weathered face breaking into a bright smile as his eyes landed on the young woman approaching him. "Marlowe, you came just in time." He gestured towards the basket of fish by his feet and added, "I caught a bunch of fish today. Take some home for Granger. He needs to build up his strength."

Marlowe was carrying a bag of groceries she had just bought. She waved her hand dismissively and politely declined her uncle's offer.

"No, thanks. Keep it for my cousin. He's still growing, and he needs a healthy meal more."

"Don't be silly. You don't have to be so formal with me," the man, Brock Lambert, said, laughing heartily. As he spoke, he stuffed two fish into the bag Marlowe held. Then, he handed her the wet phone.

"I found this by the beach, but it won't turn on. You young people are quite knowledgeable about these modern gadgets. So I want you to see if you can get it working. There was someone calling when I found the phone, and the person seemed really eager to reach the owner of the phone."

“Alright, let me have a look," Marlowe said. She accepted the phone, inspecting it carefully. “It's clearly soaked, but it doesn't seem to be completely destroyed. I'll take it home and see what I can do."

"Okay." Brock nodded.

They two people chit chatted for a while before parting ways.

When Marlowe got home, she wasted no time and immediately started cooking. She made an extra bowl of soup, which she hid in the cupboard.

After dinner, while Granger was out drying the freshly caught fish, Marlowe seized the moment to quietly slip upstairs. In her hands, she carried the bowl of soup she had hidden earlier, as well as some medicine.

In the dimly lit room, the sound of Mitchel's labored breathing filled the air as he lay feverish and unconscious. Marlowe had made a desperate call to the island doctor the day before, seeking guidance on administering the correct medication and changing Mitchel's bandages.

She gently positioned Mitchel into a more comfortable position, making sure he was fully supported before carefully administering the necessary medication. With a gentle touch, she proceeded to carefully remove and replace his bandages.

"When are you going to wake up?" she murmured softly as she wiped his sweat with a clean towel. The thought of taking him to the hospital weighed heavily on her mind. The exorbitant charges and the subpar quality of doctors there made it a daunting prospect.

As she wiped the sweat from his forehead, her eyes landed on his striking features. “You must consider yourself fortunate to have survived being swept out to sea and eventually washed up on shore. Considering how good looking you are, I could picture this whole ordeal playing out like a scene from a drama. Were you involved with a wealthy woman? Was this a crime of passion?"

After a pause, she continued, "In all honesty, dealing with such a mess is the last thing I need. What if there is indeed some rich lady involved and she comes looking for you and decides to take me out, too? I really don't want to have to deal with that. You better wake up soon and find someone to take you back."

Marlowe was rather talkative, and she had a wild imagination. But suddenly, a voice interjected, “Don't worry. It wasn't a crime of passion."

"Ah!" With her back to Mitchel, Marlowe was startled and jumped, the towel in her hand slipping from her grasp and tumbling into the basin below.

She spun around to see Mitchel awake and observing her.

Seeing that Mitchel had woken up, Marlowe was delighted. A grin spread on her face, and her eyes sparkled as she said, “You're awake, finally! If you hadn't woken up, I was planning to toss you back into the sea tonight."

Mitchel, taken aback by her cheerful proclamation, found himself at a loss for words. Wincing, he shifted his weight and struggled to sit up.