"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 seemed 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 name.
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 emerged.
"Then… then be gentle…"
Nia bit her lower lip, her large, damp eyes filled with trepidation.
Any anger Maxwell might have had melted 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."
