Thinking about him staying in the ergency room for half an hour, her feelings grew complex again, knowing he donated more than usual.
Before the plane touched down, Anton Miller stayed by her side the whole ti, without resting, just accompanying her, even though he said nothing.
The villa was large, situated by the sea, with pleasant scenery.
As dusk arrived, the afterglow of the sunset had faded, and night was about to fall.
A black Volvo drove into the yard and stopped in front of the villa.
The driver opened the car door, and Anton Miller got out. He directly picked up Mia Lane and headed towards the living room.
In the darkness, looking at his face so close, Mia Lane could feel the anger weighing on him. What was he upset about?
"Hello, Mr. Zhang." Ms. Tancred greeted him happily.
Anton Miller did not stop in the living room but imdiately carried her upstairs, entering the master bedroom, where the lights turned on automatically.
He gently placed her on the bed, removed her shoes, tucked her legs under the covers, and then positioned her against the headboard, pulling up the quilt.
Mia Lane looked up at him, "Where is this?"
"My ho." He stood by the bed, gazing down at her indifferently, "Take a day to process your new identity. In this house, I don’t want to hear his na or feel any presence of him."
Mia Lane watched him turn and leave, her heart sinking heavily.
His revenge had begun, and he would be crazy.
Walking down the stairs, Anton Miller instinctively gripped the railing, his brows knitted tightly, feeling a bit dizzy.
Donated too much blood, barely reaching the amount Justin Kingston needed.
Practically risking his life to save him.
Holding onto the railing, he managed to get downstairs, where Ms. Tancred approached with concern, "Mr. Zhang, what’s wrong? You look pale."
Anton Miller stopped in front of her, took a deep breath, "I’m fine."
He then headed toward the sofa, "From now on, you will be responsible for taking care of Miss Lane, including her diet, daily life, and emotions. Spend more ti chatting with her, guide her, and if she wants to go out, you must report it to first."
"Alright, I understand."
"She just lost a child and had a procedure; her body is still weak." Anton Miller sat down on the sofa, "Also, for certain reasons, she’s particularly upset, so pay special attention to nutrition in her diet."
"Yes." Ms. Tancred listened attentively, "I will devise a recovery al plan for you to review."
"Okay." Anton Miller lightly furrowed his brow, "I’ll head out now." He suddenly thought of sothing.
"Won’t you rest?"
He did not respond, just walked away.
After a while, the door to the master bedroom upstairs, left slightly ajar, was knocked on, but no one answered.
Ms. Tancred gently pushed the door open, carrying a bowl of broth with skimd oil inside.
Mia Lane sat against the headboard, the room lit, her face sorrowful, eyes unfocused.
Ms. Tancred ca to the bed, "Miss Lane, you can call Ms. Tancred. I will be taking care of you from now on. This is freshly brewed chicken soup; would you like so?"
"I don’t want any." Mia Lane looked up at her, softly asking, "Where is Anton Miller?"
"Mr. Zhang went out." Ms. Tancred bowed respectfully, offering the soup to her, "Will you drink it yourself or should I feed you?"
"I said I won’t drink it." She felt a bit resistant, bitterness churning inside, "Please leave, I want to be alone."
Ms. Tancred looked at her thin and lonely figure, hesitated a bit, "Miss Lane, I know your situation. You shouldn’t be getting out of bed recently; you need soup to recover your body. All the nutrition is in the soup."
Mia Lane stayed silent, not wanting to say another unnecessary word.
She reached for her bag nearby, took out a teacup, and handed it to her, "Please pour so warm water, thank you."
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