"Sis, Marshall Ferreira is hospitalized."
Nora Scott and Marcus Shaw paused in their movements.
Nora Scott: "Congratulations, terminal illness?"
Marcus Shaw: "How many days left to live?"
Oliver Scott: "..."
For a moment, Oliver Scott was speechless. He took off his headphones, wrapped them around his hand a few times, and put them in his pocket. Then he lifted his eyelids, staring steadily at Nora Scott.
Nora picked up a can of Coke, pulled the tab to open it, took a sip, rested her palm on the edge of the dining table, and said nonchalantly, "I didn't touch him."
Relieved by Nora's answer, Oliver let out a breath.
Feeling at ease, Oliver came over, his tone more relaxed, "After school tonight, he was stopped and beaten by several masked men outside the school. His limbs were fractured, and he was severely injured. He'll probably be bedridden for about half a year."
Such familiar circumstances made Nora unconsciously think of another group—those who protected Sophie Scott.
