A rare smile touched Maxwell Peary's eyes as he watched her frightened little expression, feeling quite helpless.
"If you're afraid, close your eyes."
Maxwell Peary approached with an alcohol swab in one hand and a syringe in the other.
Nia Mitchell shook her head vehemently. Closing her eyes would only make her more afraid. Without sight, her other senses would become even more sensitive.
"Uncle..."
Her voice was soft and pleading, sounding exceptionally pitiful.
Maxwell Peary sighed inwardly, ignored her, and went straight to her bedside.
"Whatever you've got to say, wait until after you get your fever shot."
Nia Mitchell pouted. There would be no need to say anything after the shot.
"But... but..."
Seeing her stammer, unable to form a complete sentence, Maxwell Peary reached over and gently laid her prone on his lap.
"Gently, gently..."
Nia Mitchell frantically tried to struggle up, but she was no match for the CEO's strength, so she could only lie there obediently.
