The dance ended.
A flicker of disappointnt crossed George Stanford’s brow. "Shawna, can I hug you?"
Mrs. Guillen opened her arms generously and gave him a smile.
George Stanford was content.
「Inside the surveillance room.」
William Guillen was already in a frenzy; if Thomas Shannon hadn’t been holding him back, he might have rushed out to fight George Stanford to the death.
As dinner concluded, George Stanford, ever the gentleman, escorted Mrs. Guillen out of the restaurant, opened her car door, and watched her depart.
While George Stanford was still imrsed in the sorrow of his goddess leaving him, Charlie River appeared before him.
"Mr. Standford, the Young Master has fulfilled your request. Can we perform a comprehensive examination on the maniac now and then develop a surgical plan?"
"Tch, can’t even wait a second," George Stanford grumbled, but he was a man of his word and honored their agreent.
"Lead the way."
Charlie River led George Stanford to the restaurant, where Thomas Shannon and Sophie Sullivan were already waiting.
George Stanford looked at them suspiciously. "I say, were you two lying in ambush here all along?"
How else could they appear so promptly, just as Shawna left?
Charlie River simply smiled without saying a word.
Thomas Shannon picked up the lemon water before him and took a sip. "Mr. Standford, why don’t we begin now?"
Sophie Sullivan nodded in agreent.
She couldn’t wait any longer!
George Stanford pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Sophie Sullivan, signaling for her to remove her mask.
Sophie complied.
When the mask ca off, revealing a face crisscrossed with scars, George Stanford tutted, "What deep hatred, what bitter grievances, to be dealt such a brutal hand."
Sophie Sullivan: "..."
She also wanted to know what kind of hatred and grievances warranted such brutal treatnt.
"Ugly, just too ugly... Truly unbearable to look at."
George Stanford continued to mutter, each word a knife twisting in Sophie Sullivan’s heart.
She knew her face was hideous now, but couldn’t he talk about sothing else? As a doctor, was it really appropriate to so directly attack a patient’s fragile psyche?
George Stanford examined the scars, touching them carefully, then shook his head, his expression troubled.
Sophie Sullivan’s heart leaped into her throat. What did that an? Could he treat her or not?
"Mr. Standford, what’s with that expression?"
"It’s difficult... Very tricky, not easy to treat..."
"So, are you up to the task or not?" Sophie Sullivan eyed him doubtfully.
His dical skill questioned, George Stanford grew angry. His expression hardened as he retorted, "Are you doubting ?"
"You’re the one making it sound like you can’t do it. Is it my fault?" Sophie Sullivan looked innocent. Who was it just now saying it was tricky and hard to treat?
George Stanford suppressed his anger and, with considerable displeasure, finally spat out, "Such a sharp tongue."
He stood up and swaggered out. "I’ll return to the hospital to develop a plan. As for your face... this can’t be rushed. It requires a slow, ticulous approach—fine carving takes ti and precision."
Sophie Sullivan widened her eyes and looked at Thomas Shannon. "Why do I get the feeling Old Mr. Standford is bluffing ?"
"Who asked you to doubt his abilities?"
Didn’t she know it was taboo to tell a man he was incapable?
Sophie Sullivan puffed her cheeks and turned her head aside. "It’s clearly his own fault for giving that impression!"
She didn’t realize that when she puffed her cheeks like that, she looked very much like an enraged pufferfish—round and plump, making one want to give her a pinch.
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