His Precious Love

When the duo stepped into the elevator, the man spoke slowly. “Jean, did you know about Jensen's matter long

ago?”

“He mentioned it to me once,” Jean respectfully answered the man beside her. Her hand that was gripping the bag

subconsciously tightened.

“It's all right. You two are usually close to each other, anyway. It's not a problem for you to know about it,” said the

middle-aged man gently. No emotions could be identified on his calm face. “You may get back to work once we're

out of the hospital. You don't need to follow me.”

“All right,” answered Jean.

When the elevator finally arrived on the first floor, Jean exited it first while the man went straight to the parking lot

on the first floor. Just like that, they went their separate ways.

Standing in the lobby, Jean was about to head out when she caught sight of a figure in the corner of the lobby. She

instantly froze on the spot. By the time she came to her senses and ran out to chase after that person, the latter

was already gone.

“Jensen! Jensen!” Jean yelled in the open-air parking lot. However, no one responded to her voice. After standing in

the parking lot for some time, she suddenly thought of something and turned around to glance at the twenty-third

floor. “So, you knew about it long ago,” she murmured.

In the meantime, a white sedan sped down the road outside the hospital. The man in the car wore a cap and a

mask. Occupying the passenger seat beside him was a bag with a broken zip. A transparent bag could be seen

jutting out of it, and it contained a Sumanthovean army knife that was stained with blood.

“Scar, I need you to find me a DNA testing agency. Don't let anyone know about this.” The man spoke into his

Bluetooth earphones.

In a modified container car, a bespectacled man was holding a cup of instant pasta in one hand and a pair of

welding clamps in the other to weld a chip. “Jensen, why are you looking for a DNA testing agency all of a sudden?”

“Don't ask so many questions. Just look for the most reliable agency that can keep secrets,” said Jensen as he

turned the steering wheel, making the car drive around the altar in the square before taking another road.

“Okay. Leave it to me,” Scar promised. Before hanging up, he asked, “Hey, remember the surveillance camera you

asked me to repair last time? I'm almost done with it. When will you be free to collect it?”

“Next Tuesday.” With that, Jensen hung up before Scar could say anything else.

Realizing Jensen had hung up, Scar glared at his phone and cussed before carrying on with his work.

Meanwhile, when Rayna and Curtis returned to the hotel, Curtis carried her into the bathroom to help her wash up

and change into a set of clean clothes. Only then did he place her on the bed.

“Get a good night's rest. I'll be in the room.” Curtis pulled the covers over her and bent over to kiss her forehead.

At that, Rayna lay down obediently. Curtis sat by the bed and waited for her to fall asleep before getting up to enter

the bathroom.

He pulled out his phone and made a call in the bathroom. “Look into Hamish Galopin's information at Granatano

again.”

“All right,” responded a woman on the other end of the call. A man's voice sounded as well. “You'll need us to look

into Jensen Morag and Chandler Vardy, too, right?”

“Yes, look into them,” said Curtis coldly. With his back facing the sink, he continued, “Look into Milo Galopin, Simone

Miles, and Cassidy Gilroy, too. And that elderly traditional medicine practitioner who used to live in Shvomhid

Mountain. Find out what he looks like. I want all of this information.”

“Curtis, it's going to take some time to look into so many people. Should we contact Dario and his men? It'll speed

things up,” said the woman. At the same time, the sound of her typing away on a keyboard could be heard.

“Sure. Go ahead and arrange it. The faster I get the results, the better.” Curtis hung up after saying that, turning

around to face the mirror above the sink. The man in the mirror looked grim and had traces of exhaustion in his

gaze. There was even dark stubble visible on his chin.

Matilda Qualls and Stan, who were on the other side of the ocean, continued with their work on hand when their call

with Curtis ended. After working for some time, Stan asked, “Are Rayna's eyes really incurable?”

“No idea. It's too early to come to a conclusion now.” Matilda shut her laptop and tucked it under her arm. She then

got up from her chair and walked over to Stan, only to find his laptop's interface covered in codes.

“I'm heading upstairs first. Dario will handle things at Hawen. I'll call him later,” Matilda informed briefly. Hearing

that, Stan grunted a response and watched her head upstairs.

After stretching himself, Stan rose from his chair and approached a table by the side to pour himself some water.

With the glass of water in his hand, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazed at the swimming pool

outside the mansion as well as the mountain highways surrounding it. Sighing gently, he lamented to himself, “It's

been five years. I can't believe I've stayed here for so long. I wonder how that person is doing now.”

Meanwhile, Sheena and Jovan stopped contacting each other after their encounter during the family banquet at the

presidential palace.

That day, Sheena was holding a watering can while watering her carefully cultivated plants on the balcony when

her mother crept up behind her. “Sheena, did you and Jovan get into a fight?”

Wanda Schiff's voice gave Sheena such a fright that she lost her grip on the watering can. It fell to the ground,

drenching her shoes and the hem of her skirt.

“Mother, how many times did I tell you not to creep up on me like that?” Sheena eyed her wet dress and shoes,

frowning. “They're all wet now.”

“This is our own house. There's no one else apart from a few of us here. Why are you always so surprised?” Though

Wanda knew it was her actions that gave Sheena a fright, she thought it was unnecessary for the latter to react so

dramatically. She might feel bad for wetting Sheena's clothes and shoes, but she was mostly displeased by Sheena's

impatient tone earlier.

“Go in and get changed. We can just let the housekeeper clean this up,” said Wanda, reaching out to pull her

daughter into the house. At the same time, she summoned the housekeeper in the house to clean up the balcony.

Sitting in the living room was Frank Powell, who was reading the newspaper on the couch. Noting Wanda's dark

expression as she descended the stairs, he adjusted his glasses and asked, “What's wrong? Why do you look so

gloomy? Did you get into an argument with Sheena again?”

Wanda adjusted her shawl while making her way to him. “Did you meet the crown prince during your visits to the

presidential palace these days?”

“No. Mr. Eastbridge was the one who invited me to the presidential palace, not the crown prince,” said Frank,

flipping the page on his newspaper and reading the next page.

What Wanda disliked the most was Frank's indifference to every matter in the house. Hence, she snatched the

paper from him, chiding, “All you do is read the newspaper and watch the news every day. Political affairs are all

you care about. Can't you make some effort to give your family some attention?”

Wanda looked furious, but her eyes were red. As she spoke, her voice even sounded choked up.