“At any rate, it was because of your bodyguard’s mistake,” Simpsony sprawled on the sofa, refusing to move.


    Vivian pursed her lips butpromised and walked over. She rummaged through the medical kit, pulling out iodine and cotton swabs. “Will Mare be punished?”


    “Of course, hiss…” Simpson winced, “be gentle.”


    Vivian nced at him, puzzled.


    Simpson asked, “What’s that expression for?”


    “I thought none of you were afraid of pain,” Vivian said. After all, being in the mafia was like eating and killing, getting hurt was habitual.


    Despite her words, Vivian eased her touch.


    “Frequent injuries don’t make one immune to pain,” Simpson found Vivian’s logic strange.


    After disinfecting the wound, Vivian lowered her head to rummage through the medical kit again. “What kind of punishment will Mare face?”


    Simpson, squinting in pain, watched Vivian working closely on his injury. She was focused and serious, as if in her eyes, nothing else mattered more than the bruise before her.


    Focusing too closely can strain the eyes, so Simpson simply closed his.


    “You seem to care a lot about Mare,” he said.


    Vivian paused, realizing her concern was indeed improper… she couldn’t exin Luzia and Mare’s rtionship.


    “Because,” Vivian hesitated, “Mare is my bodyguard, responsible for my safety.”


    Vivian said, “I need to know about any changes around me to ensure my safety.”


    Simpson seemed to ept her reasoning, nodding. “jos will punish him for his actions today. It could be a pay cut, a transfer, a beating, or even expulsion.”


    “Expulsion?” Vivian hadn’t expected the consequences to be so severe. Shocked, her hand slipped, pressing the medicated cotton directly onto Simpson’s wound.


    “Ah!” Simpson cried out in pain, almost jumping up. “Do you have a grudge against me?”


    Simpson’s voice changed with the pain.


    Vivian was startled too. She quickly moved away from him-she feared being hit.


    “I didn’t mean to,” Vivian apologized, genuinely not intending harm.


    Simpson was in agony but couldn’t physically retaliate. He slumped back onto the sofa.


    The sofa was filled with sponge, soft and stic. When he sat heavily, his body bounced upward twice.


    Simpson’s mouth felt numb.


    Vivian probably never expected that the medical kit in the apartment would be used so frequently.


    She looked at Mare’s back, covered in welts and blood. “Did jos do this?”


    The intense smell of blood permeated the room, making Vivian feel unwell. The nausea rose within her, her legs giving way.


    “How can I help you?” Vivian held onto the doorframe, struggling not to copse.


    “Thank you, I can manage,” Mare said, opening the medical kit and pouring disinfectant on his back.


    The pungent smell of the disinfectant made Vivian cover her mouth and rush out of Mare’s room.


    “Oh, Vivian?” It was jos’s family doctor, Felise. “Our Capo told me you’re not feeling well, but you’ve been reluctant to let me check on you.”


    Felise followed Vivian to the bedroom door but stayed outside, listening to the sounds of retchinging from the bathroom.


    Felise frowned. ording to jos’s description, Vivian had been in this state for some time, with frequent vomiting, increased appetite, and lethargy.


    Before Felise could gather her thoughts, Vivian recovered. Sshing cold water on her face, she regained someposure.


    “Perhaps you should go to the hospital for a check-up,” Felise suggested professionally. “I think you might…”


    “Felise!” Vivian interrupted loudly, forcing down her erratic heartbeat. “Mare’s situation is very bad. Can you please check on him first?”


    “You can rest assured, Mare is in great shape. A few welts are nothing to him,” Felise reassured Vivian gently.


    Felise, being a careful and perceptive family doctor, previously had a very friendly rtionship with Vivian and had a certain understanding of her.


    Through Felise’s observations, she could sense that Vivian had some understanding of her own physical condition and was somewhat averse to it.


    As a doctor, Felise couldn’t force her patient to do anything against her will, so she decided to pause that topic and ept Vivian’s suggestion to check on Mare first.


    “You need to rest. It’s past midnight, you should be in bed asleep,” before leaving, Felise reminded her worriedly, “It’s cold at night, you should wear a coat. It would be troublesome if you catch a cold-I mean, the flu is rampant, and it will exhaust you mentallyand physically.”


    “Maintain bnced nutrition with three meals a day, eat less snacks, consume protein-rich food, and eat plenty of vegetables and fruits.”Exclusive content ? by N?(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.


    “I understand…” Felise’s advice hit Vivian hard. Was she really pregnant? Vivian was grateful that Felise didn’t reveal the result right away.


    Let’s wait a bit longer, Vivian thought.


    Vivian didn’t know when Felise left. By that time, she must have been lying in her warm andfortable bed in the bedroom, and when she woke up, the day was already bright.


    jos hadn’t returned all night.


    Mare was up early. Vivian suspected he hadn’t slept at allst night, given the appearance of two new bruises on his skin, something she hadn’t seen before.


    But thankfully, he seemed in good spirits, eating breakfast naturally with a knife and fork. His muscr upper body was concealed in a ck sweatshirt, not revealing any of the marks on his back.


    Mare seemed alright, and Vivian was relieved. She had been in Houston for a while, and besides Luzia, Mare had been the one who had been with her the longest. With Luzia about to leave for Los Angeles, if Mare was also to be transferred due to a mistake, she would truly be alone.


    A sudden and strong feeling of loneliness enveloped Vivian. She sat on the sofa, pulling a nket over herself securely. It seemed as if she had made a big decision before making a call.


    Soon, she heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line, but Vivian didn’t feel an ounce of joy-it was the maid from the Los Angeles mansion.


    “Where is my mother?” Vivian asked again about her mother’s whereabouts. “I need to speak to her.”


    “I’m sorry, Miss Vivian,” the maid’s tone was polite yet distant, almost robotic. “Madam is busy and unable to take your call. Do you need me to find Capo for you?”


    Vivian didn’t want to hear her father’s feigned concern and stern guidance. “No…”


    The maid hung up directly.


    This must have been instructed by her father!