Chapter 201

The call was to Clifford. The phone rang for a full minute, just moments from disconnecting, before it was finally answered.

"Santino? What is it?" Clifford's voice was as casual as ever, as if nothing had happened.

Santino let out a soft laugh. "It's nothing. Renata stopped by earlier and told me a few things. I just wanted to thank you."

"Oh? Thank me for what?"

"For being willing to help me. I know it was mostly for Renata's sake, but after thinking it over, I felt I should still call and say thank you."

Santino chose his words carefully, probing, trying to bait a confession from Clifford. After a long silence on the other end, Clifford asked, "What did she tell you?"

"Not much. I know you didn't want to burden me, so you told her to be discreet, but the silly girl let it slip."

"Is that so?" Clifford chuckled along.

"Yes. I just called to say thank you. Nothing more."

Clifford paused for a moment. "No need for thanks. That's what an older brother is for. If there's nothing else, get back to work."

"Alright."

With that, they both hung up.

Clifford's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the contract on the passenger seat before suddenly pulling the car out into traffic. Instead of returning to the office, he drove straight to his villa.

He went directly upstairs and tried to open the study door, but it wouldn't budge. He pushed a little harder, and it swung open, revealing what had been blocking it— Latisha. She was curled up in a ball on the floor, either asleep or unconscious.

Clifford bent down and lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and called for the doctor.

The young doctor arrived quickly. Hearing that Latisha had collapsed, he had dropped everything and rushed over.

"Mr. Lambert, what's happened to your wife now?" the doctor asked, breathless, from the doorway.

Clifford jutted his chin toward the bed. "I don't know. Take a look at her."

The doctor nodded, set down his medical bag, and hurried to Latisha's side, checking her. He turned back to Clifford, his expression uneasy.

Clifford's gaze was heavy with an unspoken threat. "What's wrong with her?"

The doctor, intimidated, swallowed hard. "Uh... she's... she's fainted from excessive grief."

He only dared to tell half the truth. He was terrified that Clifford would demand a cure, and if he failed, he'd pay with his life. Who would dare speak the full truth under such a threat?

Suddenly, Clifford seized him by the collar, lifting the man off his feet His earlier composure had vanished, replaced by an icy fury. "I'm giving you one last chance. Tell me what is wrong with her."

The doctor gulped. "She..."

"You told me before that she was in good health," Clifford said, his voice low and dangerous. "But I'm starting to think you were lying."

"Mr. Lambert, I..." Cold sweat beaded on the doctor's forehead. He didn't know how

to begin explaining Latisha's complex condition.

Clifford tightened his grip. "If you

don't tell me, and I take her to a hospital, and their diagnosis differs from yours... do you understand the consequences?" tỗ”

The doctor's legs gave way. He swallowed again, nodding frantically. "Yes, I understand."

Clifford released him, and the doctor crumpled to the floor. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and finally began to speak.