"Let go. Be careful not to suffocate. Can your fever go down without a shot?"
Maxwell Peary was still patiently trying to persuade Nia Mitchell.
"I won’t get a shot..."
Nia seed to only know how to say this, sticking to it resolutely.
"Nia Mitchell!"
Maxwell suddenly stopped tugging at the blanket. He stood up, his voice harsh and cold as he shouted her na.
Nia trembled under the covers, fear creeping into her heart.
After considering carefully for a long while, given the CEO’s unwavering character, she decided to compromise.
Slowly releasing her hands, her flushed little face erged.
"Then... then be gentle..."
Nia bit her lower lip, her large, damp eyes filled with trepidation.
Any anger Maxwell might have had lted away. He reached out and tousled her hair.
"Understood."
His voice softened in response. How could he bear to let her suffer?
Seeing she was unwell, he leaned down to tenderly kiss her forehead.
"You’re not allowed to get sick anymore."
Maxwell issued this domineering command. Seeing her like this turned him into soft putty.
Unable to resist, he lowered his head, intent on capturing her lips. But just as they were about to touch, suddenly...
A small hand slipped between their lips.
"Nia Mitchell."
Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. So, this Rabina Mitchell is determined to spoil the mood? Did she have to stick her hand out right now?
"Uncle, I’m sick."
A glint of mischief danced in Nia’s eyes; seeing the CEO taken aback, her heart blossod with delight.
"I know."
After saying this, Maxwell moved her small hand away, then lowered his head and pecked her on the lips.
"It’s contagious!"
Nia promptly began to vigorously rub Maxwell’s lips. She had a cold and a fever; what if she infected the CEO?
Seeing the deep concern in her eyes, Maxwell’s heart ward considerably.
"It’s okay."
He was a grown man with a strong immune system. How could a re peck infect him? Besides, he hadn’t even properly ’connected’ with her yet.
"But what if you get infected?"
Nia frantically rubbed his lips. Seeing them change from light pink to deep red, she felt too embarrassed to continue.
Just as Maxwell was about to console her, her next words almost made him spit blood.
"If you get sick, I won’t give you a shot."
Nia said this very seriously. There was no way she could bring herself to stick such a long needle into soone’s flesh.
Maxwell was exasperated. This Rabina Mitchell really needs to be taught a lesson. He would have to be firm with her later. But could he really bring himself to do it?
Maxwell turned back to preparing the dicine, frequently glancing at her.
"Uncle?"
As she lay there watching him, her anxiety grew.
"What is it?"
Maxwell replied without pausing his movents. Even if she tried to sweet-talk her way out of it tonight, she wasn’t escaping this fever-reducing shot.
"Didn’t you say you’d be back tomorrow?"
Isn’t it the middle of the night? Did he fly back overnight?
"Mrs. Peary."
Maxwell, having finished preparing the dicine, walked over with the filled syringe.
"It’s already past four in the morning, so technically, it *is* the next day."
When he’d said he would be back the next day, he hadn’t specified a ti. Her question was therefore aningless.
Nia’s head was buzzing. She couldn’t hear anything. The only thing in her mind was...
The needle!
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