His Precious Love

Chapter 672

Curtis distractedly brushed his fingers across the emerald bracelet that had a unique cool feeling to the touch. He

remained lost in his thoughts for a long time until Rayna voiced, “The person who gave me this emerald bracelet

was with the person who impersonated the elderly traditional medicine practitioner.”

The instant Curtis heard her statement, he was reminded of the man in the surveillance footage who looked just like

Chandler.

“Rayna, do you still remember the man who came to see you at the Faymon residence back then and introduced

himself as Chandler?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Rayna nodded in response before she felt that the man's words seemed to have an underlying meaning.

Hence, she asked directly, “You've also discerned it? That man wasn't Chandler, right?”

“No, he wasn't,” Curtis admitted. Subsequently, he revealed, “He was among those who took you away from the

hospital.”

That stunned Rayna for a moment before she reached out a hand and stroked the emerald bracelet at her wrist,

muttering, “How strange, then. He conspired with that man impersonating the elderly traditional medicine

practitioner and took me away, but he didn't do anything to hurt me.” That aside, he even gave me this emerald

bracelet.

At that thought, she belatedly told Curtis what the man said to her when he gave her the emerald bracelet. “Oh

yes, he also knew about the parasite within me. He said that this emerald bracelet can keep it calm in my body,

preventing it from running wild.”

That revelation gradually opened Curtis' mind to the implication behind it.

Since the man knows about parasites and has the emerald bracelet, both point to the fact that he's from the Burke

family. Furthermore, he's a carbon copy of Chandler. If they're unrelated by blood, it isn't quite possible for them to

have the same facial features.

“Mmh, we'll trust him this once.” Curtis' voice was mild, and a glimmer of something unfathomable flashed across

his eyes. In the driver's seat at the front, Robin looked at him through the rearview mirror, and their gazes met. The

assistant then inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, Chandler, who was making his way back to Norwal City from another city in a minivan, wanted to alight

from the vehicle when he passed by Glory in hopes of trying his luck to bump into Rayna.

Nora wanted to stop him. Unexpectedly, when Chandler opened the car door to get out of the vehicle, a motorcycle

zipped past him. The motorcyclist whipped out a Sumanthovean army knife and swung it at his face.

“Watch out, Chandler!” In the minivan, Nora yanked Chandler back into the vehicle. The blade of the

Sumanthovean army knife slashed the crook of his arm, and blood immediately gushed out of the bright red gash.

“You're injured!” At the sight of the relatively deep cut on the man's arm, Nora shot out her hand to stem the

constant bleeding. “Head to the hospital, quick!” she ordered the driver anxiously.

“Nora, Nora, I'm fine.” At the sight of the sheer anxiety etched across her features and her red-rimmed eyes,

Chandler's heart clenched. He reached out to comfort the young woman, saying, “Everything's all right. It's just a

graze.”

However, Nora was in such a panic that she roared, “I told you not to get out of the vehicle, but you simply wouldn't

listen! Do you know that just a week ago, the same thing happened to a celebrity who was on the rise? When he

alighted from the car, a motorcyclist swiped a blade across his throat, and he died on the spot.”

As she spoke, she started sobbing. “Recently, scandals about Glory's products have been popping up successively. It

goes without saying that it must have been the doing of Ms. Garland's competitor. And you're a celebrity under

Happy Entertainment... Tell me, when are you going to wise up?”

“Nora... I merely wanted to go and check on Ms. Garland. As you said, Glory has been facing a public relations crisis

recently. She must be swamped with work.” There, he glanced over his shoulder in Glory's direction and added, “I

haven't seen her in a while these days.”

Glimpsing the love in his eyes when he spoke of Rayna, Nora frowned slightly. “Get this straight, Chandler. She's the

owner of Happy Entertainment, the mistress of Faymon Group, Mrs. Faymon, and Curtis' woman.”

She softly reminded Chandler of that fact, also warning him not to cross the line, much less risk his career.

“Yeah, I know.” Truth be told, he understood that all too well. Regretfully, some things could not be controlled even

after one had seen reason.

When the minivan arrived at the entrance of the hospital, Nora helped Chandler out of the vehicle. As soon as they

did so, a reporter with a camera snapped a picture of them. Seeing that, she stepped forward to snatch the

camera away, but the man ran off. She wanted to give chase, yet she was worried about Chandler.

“Never mind, Nora. Let him go,” Chandler urged. Then, they went into the hospital side by side.

The doctor stitched his wound. Throughout it all, Nora listened carefully to the doctor's instructions at the side. After

jotting everything down, she left the hospital with Chandler and returned to the minivan.

Perceiving his restless expression, Nora cautioned, “Go home first. If you were to meet Ms. Garland now, she'd

definitely tear into you upon seeing you in such a condition!”

“All right.” Chandler glanced at his bandaged arm, a pucker appearing between his brows.

He was not afraid that Rayna would lecture him. Instead, he feared that she would worry.

The attack today is really perplexing. I wonder who was behind the incident. And what was the perpetrator's

motive? Was it truly to injure me as a warning, or as Nora deduced, to use me to deal a blow to Rayna's career?

I've got to mull this over at length.

“Postpone my engagements for the next two days. If Ms. Garland were to ask about it, say that it was my decision

and I wanted to rest for two days,” Chandler ordered.

“Will do.” Nora could still tell what took precedence. Although making money was important, it could never

compare with one's life.

In a café near the hospital, a man wearing a baseball cap and mask walked in with a backpack. When the reporter

who sat by the window spotted him, he lifted his hand and beckoned him over.

Sliding a vacuum bag containing a Sumanthovean army knife to the man who had taken a seat across from him,

the reporter arched a brow. “Here's the item you requested. I initially wanted to cut his hair but accidentally injured

him.”

As the man stared at the bloody Sumanthovean army knife before him, his lips quirked upward. “It doesn't matter.”

“Say, the two of you look exactly the same. Why is it that one is a popular celebrity while the other is a

muscleman?” Sipping at his coffee, the reporter eyed the man across from him provocatively.

They've got the exact same facial features, but their appearances are as different as night and day. One is a pretty

boy, whereas the other seems to be from the special forces. Their auras are entirely different.

The man reached out a hand and snagged the bag on the table before stuffing it into his backpack. Thereafter, he

took out a stack of envelopes and handed them to the reporter. “Here's your reward.”

The reporter stretched out a hand to take it, his gaze falling on the bruise at the crook of the man's arm. He

narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Why, were you beaten by your own boss?”

“Curiosity kills the cat. Don't ask questions you shouldn't be asking.” Shouldering his backpack, the man had a drink

of the water on the table that had long since been ordered before leaving.

The reporter leaned against his chair and scowled at the man, who was leaving without a backward glance. “Tsk!

I'm to foot the bill again! How stingy!”