Third floor art studio.
A slender figure sat in front of the easel, holding a carving knife and a handkerchief, slightly hunching forward, carefully wiping off the stains bit by bit.
Because he held the sa posture for too long and the temperature was high in the studio, sweat quickly beaded on his forehead.
He casually wiped his forehead, the sweat mixed with blood from a wound, ssily saring it on the back of his hand, but he didn’t even glance at it, his eyes focused only on the painting before him.
As the dirty parts on the drawing paper grew smaller, a smile finally appeared in his eyes.
Bang—
The studio door was violently pushed open, bringing a gust of wind with it.
Zachary Lancaster strode up behind Zane Lancaster, yanked his mismatched long hair backward, and cursed, "Are you painting again? Did you finish what I told you to do?"
Zane Lancaster grimaced in pain and murmured, "I’ve done what you wanted. This is my personal ti now."
"Personal ti, my ass." Zachary sneered, "Old man didn’t tell you to stop. Who allowed you to slack off here? Believe it or not, I’ll tell Mom and let her kick you out!"
Zane suppressed his anger, pursed his lips, put down the carving knife in his hand, and asked, "What do you want?"
"My mom is looking for you, hurry up and get down there." Seeing him still looking timid, Zachary released his hair as if shaking off sothing dirty.
"I know." Zane lowered his gaze, covered the painting with the white cloth on the easel, then got up and headed out.
However, Zachary didn’t rush out. Noticing the easel, a malicious smile appeared in his eyes.
Downstairs in the living room.
"Xavier’s here." As Zane walked over, Lucy Lock put down the magazine in her hand, looked at him with a gentle smile, "How have you been feeling lately? Any better than before?"
Zane lowered his head obediently, "Thank you, Mom, for your concern. I’m much better."
Lucy had a look of worry between her brows, "That’s good. Thinking of you being unwell, I’m always uneasy. I especially had your brother get so dicine for you. This ti it might cure your illness, would you give it a try?"
As she spoke, Lucy pushed the glass bottle on the table towards Zane.
Seeing the erald-green liquid in the bottle, Zane’s eyes turned slightly cold, and the smile on his lips faded considerably.
"Really? Thank you for your concern, Mom. I’ll drink it imdiately and hope it doesn’t waste your and my brother’s efforts."
As she watched him sensibly take the dicine, Lucy displayed a satisfied smile.
Zane had been testing dicine for her since he was young. The years of accumulation not only gave him an extraordinary physique but also made him highly sensitive to dications.
If the dicine was of poor quality, large red rashes would soon appear on his skin after taking it.
But if the quality was good, he would remain unscathed.
After waiting for about ten minutes, Lucy didn’t see rashes appear on Zane’s skin, so her tone increased in weight, "How are you feeling now? Anything uncomfortable?"
Feeling warmth coursing through his bloodstream as well as changes to the wound on his forehead, a mont of surprise flashed in Zane’s eyes.
In his life, he had taken thousands if not tens of thousands of dicines, but it was the first ti he had such a reaction.
"Mom, I feel no discomfort." Suppressing the shock in his heart, Zane spoke truthfully.
Lucy, in turn, was left incredulous.
Ann Vaughn actually found a pharmacist as a backer?!
No wonder that little bastard is doing well, with luck on their side!
Lucy’s face turned grim, eyes filled with icy malice. Suddenly rembering another matter, she spoke again, "How is the thing I asked you to do coming along?"
"Everything is progressing smoothly, just as you instructed." Zane replied.
"Very good." Lucy nodded, "You may leave. Also, stop indulging in painting all day long. It’s ti to contribute to the family. For instance, bring the pharmacist from the Vaughn Clinic over to the Lockwood Family to work for us."
"Yes, I understand." Zane remained submissive until he left the living room.
The obedience on his face vanished, replaced by unending coldness.
As he went upstairs and back to the art studio, Zane uncovered the white cloth on the easel, his pupils suddenly constricting.
The drawing paper was torn to shreds, ssily stuck on the drawing board, forming two English letters.
SB.
His hand, placed on the easel, slowly clenched into a fist.
...
Unexpectedly, the Vaughn Clinic only sold those dicines without conditions on the first day.
It then announced that the dicines were only available to clinic mbers.
However, becoming a mber wasn’t just a paid privilege; it was a gift from the clinic to express appreciation for those custors who have always supported and stood by them.
As for others wanting to purchase, they had to obediently book appointnts, waiting for mbers to pick first.
If making appointnts got them the products, it would still be alright. But these mbers were wealthy, treating the prohibitively expensive dicine like drinks.
Leaving those who wanted leftovers unable to get any, almost driving them mad.
The clinic’s official account was flooded with curses, demanding more mbers or unconditional sales of the dicine.
The Vaughn Clinic humbly accepted these suggestions but didn’t change a thing.
Logically, with such treatnt, those custors shouldn’t return to the clinic for diagnostics, but business has only gotten better.
Ann Vaughn laughed until her sides hurt when Sherry ntioned the aftermath of this matter.
After all, it seems that things you can’t have always seem best.
But they probably never guessed that the reason for the mbership rule was not the Vaughn Clinic’s revenge against those siding with the Lockwood Family.
It was because Ann Vaughn could only make a limited amount of dicine in a day, leaving no other choice.
Even so, mbership cards aren’t just given out casually; each has a special number that binds to a person’s ID, significantly preventing certain individuals from taking advantage of the situation.
All things considered, Vaughn Clinic managed to pass the first battle against the Lockwood Family smoothly.
"By the way, Sherry, I’ve always forgotten to ask you." Ann placed her phone with the speaker on the table, lifting a glass of water, "Your surna is Sand, but why call your clinic Vaughn Clinic?"
Sherry remained silent for a few seconds, then laughed, "This isn’t my clinic, I’m just managing it. The boss’s surna is Vaughn."
Since when did the Vaughn surna beco so common?
Ann found it a bit odd but didn’t dwell on it.
"Annie, the Lockwood Family knows we have a pharmacist too. Next ti you co to the clinic, be careful not to be targeted by them." Sherry advised worriedly.
"I know."
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