Chapter 146: Chapter 146: Let’s Go See The Excitent!
Brandon Piers thought the ruined hospital room was already the limit of what he could endure.
But he was wrong.
The next day, when the cook delivered breakfast divided into three different shapes and portions, mixed with three different colored porridge, Brandon felt both of his eyelids twitching.
“What’s going on?” Brandon tried hard to keep his composure in front of the old housekeeper.
“Miss Green said she is a doctor and knows better what nutrients you need. From now on, Miss Green will be in charge of your als,” the old housekeeper said, his face full of admiration for Abigail.
Brandon took a deep breath.
After the housekeeper left, Brandon was about to throw away the insulated box when his phone beeped. Opening it, he saw Abigail had sent a cute emoji, followed by a ssage that had a sinister tone even through the screen, “Breakfast is part of the deal, rember?”
Brandon: “…”
Calm down!
The three days passed quickly, but for Brandon, they dragged on forever.
The pain in his chest, coupled with the ‘surprises’ from that chubby troublemaker, made life colorful.
By the third day, Brandon could finally respond with, “Hmm, it tastes okay.”
Pullan marveled at how Brandon’s obsessive-compulsive disorder could be treated.
If only heart disease could be fully cured too.
Thinking of this, Pullan felt lancholic again as he helped Brandon into a wheelchair. “Do you really have to go, sir? What if you bump into sothing or the wound gets infected?”
“Nonsense.” Was he attending his engagent party? He was going to watch a show.
Brandon had never planned to attend this engagent party. Since the surgery was declared a failure, he had to act accordingly. But staying in this hospital room any longer might drive him to a nervous breakdown.
Pullan wasn’t upset at the rebuke; instead, he felt even more distressed. “Sir, Secretary Max has already arranged for a stylist. I’ll bring them over now.”
He thought Brandon must feel his ti was running out, which was why he insisted on attending the engagent party, to leave no regrets.
Convinced of this, Pullan nodded firmly, only to et Brandon’s disapproving glare full of questions. Had he misunderstood?
“How can I wear formal attire like this?” Brandon glanced down at his chest wound, over twenty centiters long, stitched perfectly, each suture identical.
During his ti in the hospital room, his obsessive-compulsive disorder had tortured him. All he could do was stare at his chest.
Perhaps his impression of Abigail was too indelible. Every ti he looked at himself, he couldn’t help but think of her perfectly symtrical and flawless pale skin, making the sumr weather feel increasingly dry.
Pullan was baffled. Weren’t they going to an engagent party? No styling?
“Go fetch a suit and a light blanket.”
“Yes, sir.” Pullan couldn’t help but Tsukkomi, just said no styling, now wants a suit, really can’t hide his true intentions.
Kelvin Max soon brought over the clothes and a stylist.
Brandon took the light blanket, covering his legs, mainly concealing that half of his pants.
Finally, without the sight of that tattered piece of cloth, Brandon felt much better. He had Kelvin drape the suit jacket over his shoulders, then ordered, “Take to the hotel.”
“Sir, you’re not fit to be discharged. Shouldn’t we reconsider? Miss Green would understand,” Kelvin advised.
Brandon ignored him and checked the ti. “When does the engagent party start?”
“Uh…” Kelvin instinctively looked at Pullan.
Pullan quickly responded, “Miss Abigail chose a ti an hour apart from yours. Hers is at noon.”
“Oh, then let’s go.”
Glancing at the ssy hospital room, Brandon ground his teeth and set off to join the fun.
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