Olivia Lewis paused while placing her cup, and Adam Sinclair noticed her little action, pursed his lips, and continued, "Sorry, Olivia."
Olivia Lewis clanged the cup down on the bedside table, turned around, furrowed her brows, and looked at him impatiently, firing questions like a machine gun, "Are you going to sleep or not? If you’re not sleeping, I’m going to sleep!"
"I will sleep."
He curled his lips into a smile and imdiately closed his eyes.
Adam Sinclair had just undergone surgery, and the earlier commotion had exhausted all his energy. He fell into a deep slumber shortly after closing his eyes...
Olivia Lewis sat in the chair beside him, watching the person on the bed as his breathing steadied. Her gaze was complex, and she watched silently for a while.
She yawned tiredly, then leaned on the edge of the hospital bed and fell asleep—
*
The moon was already above the treetops in Linton City.
In Country W, it was still broad daylight.
It was Bobby’s first ti going to the Lawrence Headquarters with Baron Lawrence, and facing so many people at the company, he wasn’t shy at all. He just did his own thing.
While Baron Lawrence went to a eting, he played in the office.
He occupied the entire circular sofa by himself, sitting cross-legged on it while playing on his phone. His small backpack was casually thrown to the side, revealing a corner of a book.
Assistant Terrence craned his neck to sneak a look at the book’s cover and found it to be a Sherlock Hols detective novel.
He initially thought it would be a book analyzing stock market trends or sothing similar but was surprised to find such a normal book in his backpack.
This kind of book that matches a child’s character is actually the most abnormal thing to appear in Bobby’s backpack. After all, he had just fully realized what a genius truly ant today.
Assistant Terrence recalled the few stock market questions Bobby casually asked him earlier. His inability to answer any of them and Bobby’s detailed responses after a quick Google search left him quietly embarrassed.
As soone in his thirties, not being able to answer questions posed by a 9-year-old was truly embarrassing.
Even though his expertise wasn’t in data analysis, he still felt ashad!
The person on the sofa seed tired after playing and changed his position. He suddenly moved his gaze away from the iPad and looked at him, saying, "Uncle Terrence, get a glass of juice, please. I want orange juice."
"Sure, no problem." Assistant Terrence imdiately withdrew his sneaky glance and went out to get him so orange juice.
Making orange juice was simple, and in no ti, he returned to the office with the cup.
"Shin-chan, co play."
"Mom, I’m going to play."
"You’re not going! Put away your toys first! Or face my Drilling Punch!"
"Nohara Misae, big belly, three layers of fat, lady devil!"
The iPad emitted a series of animated TV sounds, and the person on the sofa watched it with relish. His dark eyes were filled with satisfaction, in stark contrast to the mature deanor from earlier!
"Young Master, your juice." While putting down the juice, he glanced at the iPad and discovered it was playing Crayon Shin-chan, which left him speechless.
He knew this animation; his son loved watching it so much that even scolding wouldn’t stop him. What he didn’t expect was that the young master, whom he regarded as a genius, also loved this kind of animation. How to describe this feeling? It just felt odd.
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