Chapter 74: A Medical Family
Thanks to his wealth of experience, Frank could tell with just one sniff that the cigarette Mrs. Candice was smoking wasn't ordinary—it was premium-grade medical-grade M.
"It's for medical purposes. I've been feeling mentally drained," Mrs. Candice explained casually as she took another puff.
Frank swallowed hard. His current state was like that of a recovering smoker watching someone light up, or a recovering alcoholic watching someone drink. He could resist, but his body betrayed him—his mouth began to water.
He focused on fixing the kitchen pipes first. Then, under the pretense of inspecting the plumbing, he took the opportunity to walk through the house and gather intel on Steve's connection to the villa.
The house was warm, and plumbing was hard physical labor. Before long, Frank was drenched in sweat. He stripped off layers of clothing until only a thin undershirt clung to his skin, soaked and translucent, revealing his muscular outline. It was uncomfortable, but he couldn't go shirtless—it just wouldn't look right.
But that shirt barely made a difference. Cheap and thin, once wet it might as well have been see-through.
"Take a break and have some water," Mrs. Candice said, staring at Frank without blinking.
"Sure," Frank replied, wiping his sweat and picking up the tea on the table.
Gulp.
Frank wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought he heard someone swallowing hard.
"Want one?" Mrs. Candice asked, offering her medical-grade M cigarette.
"...Just one hit." Frank's throat twitched. He couldn't resist anymore and took it.
He inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered slightly as his eyelids trembled—a look of bliss spread across his face.
By the time he snapped out of it, he realized a pair of hands was roaming across his chest.
"You guys must work hard. These muscles... clearly not built in a gym," Mrs. Candice murmured, her hands freely exploring Frank's body, completely ignoring the sweat.
"Ma'am..." Frank said awkwardly, shocked to find himself on the receiving end of that kind of attention.
"Take your shirt off. It's soaked—I'll wash it for you," she said, already pulling off his undershirt.
Her hands lingered as she undressed him, her eyes practically glowing with desire.
Whether it was the M, the charged atmosphere, or just plain chemistry, their eyes locked—and then Frank suddenly pulled her into his arms, laying her on the table. Candice responded just as fiercely. Their passion erupted from the kitchen to the living room, then the stairs, and finally into the bedroom, leaving a trail of chaos in their wake.
After their "battle," Mrs. Candice rested for a while before slipping into a robe and returning with a platter of fruit, which she fed Frank by hand as she cuddled beside him.
"It's getting late," Frank said, chewing on fruit and glancing at the darkening sky.
"Stay a little longer," she replied languidly.
As they lay together, Frank subtly began to gather information about the household.
To the outside world, the Lishman were a model couple. But behind closed doors, Dr. Lloyd Lishman and Mrs. Candice were more like polite strangers. The phrase "treating each other with respect" may sound positive, but when used to describe a marriage, it's a sign of distance.
Dr. Lishman brought home the income and supported the family. Candice didn't work—she was a full-time lady of leisure, which explained her pristine skin and figure. Suffering from chronic nervous fatigue, she relied on M and alcohol to sleep.
Lloyd was always busy. He did care for her, but more like a patient than a partner.
They had two sons, both of whom studied medicine. It was a family of doctors.
The eldest son had already graduated and opened his own clinic—a successful and respected man who had his own place but visited occasionally. The younger son was still in school out of state.
"Your son's name is Steve, right?" Frank asked, following a hunch.
"Steve?" Candice looked puzzled. The name didn't ring a bell.
Curious that Frank seemed interested in her family, she got up and returned with a photo album, opening it to introduce her family.
"This is my eldest, Chip. He's a cardiologist with his own practice. Not married yet," she said proudly.
"Who's this? Your second son?" Frank asked, his eyes landing on someone familiar—Steve.
"Yes, that's my baby, Jimmy. He's a top student at Michigan Medical School. Used to attend Harvard but later transferred. He's going to be a world-class cardiothoracic surgeon, just like his dad and brother."
"He's usually away at school, but since his dad recently had a minor car accident and messed up his kneecap, Jimmy took a break from school to come home and take care of me. He's been such a good boy," she said fondly.
"Jimmy, huh..." Frank murmured thoughtfully.
So "Steve" wasn't even his real name. He was actually Jimmy Lishman.
And this house? It really was his home.
In the U.S., doctors and lawyers are among the most lucrative professions. The more famous they are, the more money they make. They're practically high society—after all, one handles health, the other law. And rich people fear both death and lawsuits.
While they might not be billionaires, families like the Lishman were certainly upper-middle class, rubbing shoulders with the elite.
Plus, Jimmy had attended elite schools like Harvard and Michigan. With his family's support and network, he was destined to thrive in the medical world. A few years of work would give him the experience and credibility to open his own practice—and achieve true financial freedom.