After going upstairs, William Guillen couldn’t shake off the lingering anxiety and frustration in his heart.
His guest room was right next to Fluffy Zane’s room.
As he passed her room, he instinctively paused.
Standing at her doorway, William Guillen hesitated, torn. Should he go in and check on her? Her face was badly swollen; he wondered if the swelling had subsided.
With that doubt lingering, he pushed open the guest room door with one hand. He turned on the light as he walked towards the bedside.
Sophie Sullivan’s cloakroom was filled with new-season clothes from major luxury brands, including pajamas.
Fluffy Zane had a rather conservative style; even at ho, her pajamas were always modest and proper.
Under the light, she wore black lace pajamas. Her long hair was spread out on the soft pillow, her cheeks were rosy and tender, and her beautiful lips were slightly pouting.
She looked like a pouting little girl.
She had kicked off the silky thin quilt, her exquisite figure perfectly revealed under the light.
William Guillen’s throat tightened. He sat down by the bedside and noticed that the swelling on her slapped face had reduced considerably.
He saw the swelling reduction cream on the bedside table, picked it up, and gently applied a little to her face. Hopefully, the swelling will be completely gone when she wakes up tomorrow morning.
As soon as his fingers brushed her cheek, he felt her skin burning. Her body temperature was alarmingly high.
At first, he thought it was his imagination. But after he finished applying the cream to her face, he leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers to check her temperature.
The contact made William Guillen’s expression change drastically!
Fluffy Zane’s scorching temperature alard him. He knew, clearly, that she had a fever—and not a mild one.
"Fluffy, wake up!" William Guillen exclaid, shaking her by the shoulders.
Fluffy Zane’s rosy cheeks had seed cute at first. On reflection, though, they were flushed entirely from the fever, he realized.
After shaking her for a while longer with no response, he couldn’t care about anything else. He swept her up into his arms and rushed downstairs.
Downstairs, Thomas Shannon had personally prepared noodles, but William Guillen was gone.
Sophie Sullivan urged him to sit down. "William isn’t eating. Let’s eat."
Thomas Shannon gave her a suspicious look. "Did you upset Lan Singh?"
Sophie Sullivan glared at him. "You had a part in it too, you know!"
"I can’t argue with you," Thomas Shannon conceded. He poured her a glass of diluted lemon water and placed it by her hand. "Have a taste. Tell how it is."
Just as Sophie Sullivan picked up her chopsticks to take a bite, a flurry of chaotic footsteps accompanied by an anxious, low shout shattered the late-night tranquility—
"Notify the doctor! Have them prepare imdiately! Fluffy has a fever!"
Hearing William Guillen’s voice, Sophie Sullivan and Thomas Shannon exchanged glances. They both got up and went outside.
Fine beads of sweat had ford on William Guillen’s forehead. Carrying Fluffy Zane downstairs, his steps were erratic, and his voice carried a hint of anxiety that even he hadn’t noticed.
The servants and maids on night shift imdiately called the dical office upon hearing him.
Seeing William Guillen’s urgency, they figured he was taking Fluffy Zane to the dical office himself. So, the maidservants told the doctors to be on standby and that they didn’t need to co over.
"Lan Singh, what’s going on?" Thomas Shannon called out.
William Guillen looked down at the unconscious Fluffy Zane in his arms, her face burning with fever. "Fluffy has a fever," he said, his voice strained. "I can’t wake her up, no matter how hard I try."
Sophie Sullivan grabbed Thomas Shannon’s hand.
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