Seeing that she wasn't afraid at all.
Milton Rivers sneered, took a puff of his cigar, and slowly exhaled a smoke ring. His eyes still showed disdain, as if mocking her for not knowing the immensity of heaven and earth.
Who is Keane Lowell?
A child born from the marriage of two prominent families in Kystral-Valoria, born with a net worth of over a hundred million. Now, as the head of The Lowell Family, he has smoothly and ruthlessly pushed the Lowell-Kystral Group to the top, feared even by those of us from prestigious families.
A mere small traditional doctor, in front of them, was nothing more than an ant.
"Scared her." Keane Lowell's cold voice echoed.
Milton Rivers was caught off guard by that deep, fierce gaze, looking puzzled, "Why are you even protecting her?"
The atmosphere suddenly became a bit delicate.
Noticing something was amiss, Jensen Hargrave's gaze toward Claire Prescott changed slightly, politely asking her, "Claire, how do you treat Mr. Lowell's headaches?"
Claire Prescott spread her palm towards Keane Lowell, "Give me the phone."
Hearing this, everyone was shocked, looking at this fearless traditional doctor in disbelief.
The next moment, they saw Keane Lowell take out his phone, unlock it for her, his expression calm, not worried about what she would do with his phone.
After the traditional doctor took the phone, no one knew what she did. They only saw her nimble thumbs tapping on the screen. Finally, she turned off the phone and returned it.
"Mr. Lowell, make the medicine according to the prescription, and one dose will cure your headache." Her voice was soft and gentle, with no emotions, but with a meaning that others could comprehend on their own.
A new-style Chinese shirt merged into a pink skirt, outlining her graceful figure, dignified and attractive, accompanied by a refreshing herbal fragrance, her face was stunningly beautiful.
Looking gentle, pure, and harmless.
If one didn't know her, they would easily be deceived by her appearance.
"Not your average courage." Keane Lowell commented in a deep voice, his dark eyebrows and eyes having a penetrating sharpness.
Claire Prescott wasn't scared by him, nor did she look at him. She unconsciously clenched her fists, "The illness is checked, can I leave now?"
"Where do you live? I'll take you." Keane Lowell held his phone, stretched his long legs, and seemed ready to stand up.
"No need."
After refusing, Claire Prescott took back her phone from Jensen Hargrave's hands and walked out of the private room without looking back.
Everyone still hadn't understood what was going on, nor figured out the relationship between the two of them.
As the door opened and closed, the room fell into dead silence, as silent as winter cicadas.
At this moment, even moving seemed wrong.
Light and shadow skimmed over that refined noble face, with a chilling coldness emerging in his eyes, sending a shiver down one's spine.
Keane Lowell raised his eyes to Jensen Hargrave, voice low and icy, "Oftened caused her trouble?"
Cold sweat dripped from Jensen Hargrave.
The gathering was organized by him, but not a minute after sitting down, he claimed a headache and wanted to leave.
He tried his best to retain him, coincidentally ran into the small traditional doctor at the door, then brought her in to examine him, which led to the earlier scenario.
When she took his pulse, her series of actions and words made him terrified, with mood swings.
Unexpectedly, in the end, not only did he fail to please, but he also got himself into trouble.
Jensen Hargrave hurriedly explained, "I definitely didn't cause her any trouble, I just heard she's skilled in medicine, met her a few times, just greeted her briefly, and happened to run into her just now, so I invited her in."
"Snatching a phone is called inviting?"
The coldness from someone superior drilled directly into Jensen Hargrave, rendering him speechless, at a loss for words.
Keane Lowell casually closed his eyes, placed the cigarette in his hand onto the table, and said softly, "Do not make this mistake again."
"I'll never bully her again," Jensen Hargrave solemnly promised, then carefully asked, "Mr. Lowell, do you and Claire know each other?"
Jensen Hargrave's face turned paler, realizing he didn't get the chance to ask for his favor before Keane Lowell already stood and was leaving.
...
Claire Prescott finally waited for the elevator, seeing him follow, hurriedly pressed the close button.
But it was useless.
The man stepped in just as the elevator doors were closing within those few seconds.
In the enclosed space, the air instantly became oppressive.
Claire Prescott pretended to stand calmly in front of him, lowering her gaze without looking at him.
Though just three floors down, with no one else entering along the way, it still felt extraordinarily slow and lengthy.
Thus, as the door opened, she felt as if amnestied, stepping out ahead of him.
However, the sky poured with heavy rain, the rain curtain outside blocking her way.
Claire Prescott found herself helpless, retreating to a corner, waiting silently for him to leave first.
She thought, given his status, at least those around him wouldn't let him wait in such bad weather, getting a single drop of rain.
Sure enough, as Keane Lowell stepped out, a luxury car pulled up in the center of the porch, the special license plate once again affirming his extraordinary family background.
A man in a suit and tie stepped out from the driver's seat, swiftly rounding the front of the car to open the door for him.
Warm white light fell on Keane Lowell, his figure tall and straight, exuding an aura detached from the common world, noble and steady. Under the lengthy night and pattering rain, his aura seemed even colder.
Seeing him turn and look her way, Claire Prescott shifted her gaze.
Keane Lowell spoke in a warm tone, "Come over, I'll take you back."
"No need." Claire Prescott refused again, her tone not as firm as before.
"Weren't you brave just now, why scared now, just this little backbone?"
Claire Prescott raised her eyes, meeting his gaze, "I fear you have ulterior motives towards me."
She decided to play along, seeming to have given up, her pure eyes showed a bit of resilience and stubbornness.
But as these words came out, combined with what she felt from his pulse, it seemed to have another meaning.
Keane Lowell's thin lips slightly curved, his deep voice held a hint of frivolity, "What do you have that I would covet?"
This stumped her.
Wealth? Appearance?
In his eyes, perhaps neither mattered.
His friend was right, he lacked not for women.
In this power-hungry Kystral, she's not sure of his exact status, but judging by the previous situation, perhaps as long as he wants, there's nothing he can't get.
Heart raging, coming here seeking pleasure and amusement, just now in the private room, a little lack of restraint, resisting the temptation of that sultry woman, he might have ended it with her.
Seeing her not speaking, Keane Lowell finally asked, "Really don't want me to take you?"
"No need."
Since she didn't want to, he didn't insist. He took a step, bent, and got into the car.
Watching the car's shadow disappear, Claire Prescott breathed a sigh of relief, an inexplicable feeling surged, somewhere in her heart seemed to ache slightly.
Calculating the time, it's been over six years since she last saw him, she thought they'd never meet again.
In reality, there were only three interactions with him.
But during their last meeting, he left a promise, after which he never appeared before her again.
They had no contact information, even his name, she saw it back then on the "Parents' Guide" signature space.
Also because of that damned promise gradually taking root in her heart, occupying all the space, leaving no room for anyone else.
Still, it's better he doesn't remember her, considering she didn't leave a good impression before.
However.
Just now, not giving him face in front of so many people, he didn't seem to get angry either…
Claire Prescott gathered her thoughts, trying not to think otherwise, waving that noble face from her mind, she took out her phone to call a ride.
...
Under the thick rain curtain, a black Maybach parked roadside, through the windows and rain mist, watched as a taxi drove past.
On the lit-up phone screen, it clearly read: Used the left hand.
It wasn't a prescription at all.
...