Finn Prescott's face darkened a bit as he stiffly took the list.
He looked at that cold and elegant face, his tone slightly assertive, "No matter what, I'm your brother. Not answering your brother's call—is that acceptable?"
Silence was his reply.
His sister remained silent, not even glancing at him.
Finn was used to her indifference by now; he didn't even hope to have a conversation with her.
When he was brought back to the Prescott Family, the only requirement everyone had was for him to love his sister.
He treated her with all the patience he could muster.
Gradually, he increasingly disliked the role of being a half-brother, wishing instead that he were her full brother, so there wouldn't be so much distance between them...
In any case, he would spend the rest of his life making up for what he owed her, taking care of her in place of her mother.
His face darkened as he left the consultation room after paying, and instead of going to the second floor, he left Sinclair Apothecary directly.
Outside, it was almost dark; the dim light fell on him, casting a particularly somber look into those deep-set eyes, as deep as pitch-black night.
He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and murmured, "Prepare to arrange remote work."
"Alright." His assistant beside him replied respectfully.
Having grown accustomed to his autocracy, it was rare to see him so helpless.
Perhaps only the person inside could make him feel powerless; Young President Prescott had truly exhausted all patience with his sister.
...
Inside the clinic.
Claire Prescott slowly collected her thoughts; upon seeing the next patient, the coldness gradually melted from her brow and eyes, her expression returning to normal.
She remained busy until nightfall, and it wasn't until she had attended to the last patient that she tidied up, ready to rest.
Tiger at the counter called out to her, "Sister Claire, there are several packages for you, seeming to have been sent from The Gilded Bough."
The packages were contained in a large box; without thinking much, she knew they were filled with clothes.
The Gilded Bough, known for Suzhou embroidery heritage, with the household head being her aunt, would send clothes every season.
All of the clothes were custom-made to fit her measurements, either semi-Chinese dresses or cheongsams, some with matching hair accessories. Now her closet was brimming, almost overflowing.
She sent a message to her aunt, letting her know the clothes had arrived.
Living in the capital, a thousand miles from Valoria, she rarely saw the Prescott Family; although raised by her grandfather, the family's concern for her was no less.
Yet, she had no desire to return to that home at all.
...
That night, Claire Prescott lay alone in bed, tossing and turning sleeplessly.
Despite having worked hard all day and her body being exhausted, she just couldn't fall asleep.
Staring at the blank white ceiling, her thoughts suddenly drifted; she reached for her phone to find Keane Lowell's WeChat and began typing a message: [Have you returned to the capital?]
Was it strange to send such a message so late?
After deliberating, she deleted the text, wanting to ask if he was asleep.
After sending the message, she hazily placed the phone facedown on the bed, closed her eyes, but Keane's face inevitably flashed through her mind, her heart inexplicably restless.
It's already past midnight; he probably has been asleep.
Would sending a message so late disturb him...?
Amidst her wild thoughts, the notification sound pinged.
Claire Prescott lifted her phone for a glance.
[Just returned to the capital, want to come over?]
Claire was momentarily stunned, not immediately comprehending what he meant, until she saw the previous message she had sent clearly.
Her mind buzzed, burning off any remaining drowsiness.
Sleep?
What she sent was [Sleep?]
Instead of... Are you asleep?
!!!
Claire Prescott tightened the grip on her phone, feeling utterly defeated.
After some time, she gradually recovered from the shock, pondering repeatedly what his "want to come over?" could mean.
This late, calling her over to... sleep with him? Or calling her over for a lecture?
Once calmed, she deemed the latter more likely.
It was a mere blunder, she wouldn't be lured by him and really go over.
Turning off her phone, she quietly counted stars, trying to lull herself to sleep.
In The Cloud Brocade Hotel suite, Keane Lowell, in a bathrobe, leaned against the headboard, his dark eyes fixed on the screen, waiting endlessly for her reply.
It was as if, like the endless dark night outside, everything fell into silence.
...
Next day.
Claire Prescott left for a consultation around five in the morning, returning to Sinclair Apothecary just in time for her shift, barely having time for tea before patients began arriving.
During a break, her eyelids felt heavy, but fortunately, there weren't as many patients today as in the past few days.
After lunch, she lay down on her desk and fell asleep.
The clinic was particularly quiet.
Claire slept deeply, the lights in the room were off, with only half a light-permeable window pane left open.
A long shadow fell over her slender back, the man tall like jade, holding a suit jacket over his arm, his eyes tranquilly observing the sleeping figure for a while.
He placed the jacket he was holding over her, and sat silently on the chair beside her.
The girl's half-face exposed to the air, skin pure as pearl, gentle and graceful, deep lashes casting delicate shadows on her face, tranquil and obedient, yet deep down not her true nature.
After years of absence, her thoughts were still as elusive.
Why, despite remembering him, wouldn't she admit it?
Or perhaps, did she refuse to fulfill her promise, unwilling to let him near?
In the quiet stillness, he gingerly brushed aside loose strands of hair from her face, as his gaze revealed an unnoticed tenderness and affection.
Keane Lowell sat there gazing at her for over half an hour, seemingly unfazed by boredom, until his phone vibrated...
He glanced down at the incoming call, stood up and took it outside, his aura chilling, leaving Sinclair Apothecary without a sound.
Coming like the wind, leaving like the wind.
When Claire Prescott opened her eyes, only the suit remained, but no one else.
Surrounded by a familiar woody fragrance, her instinctive reaction was that Keane had been here.
She went outside to peek, seeing no trace of him anywhere.
Approaching the counter, she asked Tiger, "Did someone come looking for me just now?"
Tiger's gaze was also blurry, shaking his head, "Didn't notice."
Seeing her holding a fine suit, Tiger couldn't help but show interest, gossiping, "Lots of handsome guys have been visiting Sister Claire lately, either in Ferraris or Maybachs—are you in love, Sister Claire?"
Hearing his odd description, Claire Prescott's lips tightened a bit, calmly saying, "Misunderstanding, not familiar."
Tiger doubted, "Then they must be pursuing you; I thought the guy from yesterday wasn't bad."
Yesterday...
Would he be referring to Finn Prescott?...
Claire Prescott frowned, vaguely annoyed, tossed out a "don't talk nonsense," turning to return to the consultation room.
Though no one saw him enter, her heart was gradually coming to an answer.
She packed up the jacket and took out her phone, opened Keane Lowell's WeChat, seeing the conversation still stuck on last night's blunder, she instantly lost her idea.
After contemplating for a while, she made up her mind and dialed the voice call.