Chapter 77 A Petty-Minded Man
Chapter 77 A Petty-Minded Man
When she heard the words "lucky," the muscles on the intact side of Mandy’s face twitched uncontrollably, pulling at the gauze on her forehead until red blood seeped through.
She clenched her teeth, forcing the curses rising in her throat back down.
Evan's torture in the basement, the truck that had nearly crushed her into pulp on that rainy night—every trace of fear surged back in an instant.
Louis dared to kill her... He truly would have done it!
"Go! Let's go now!" Mandy waved her left arm, repeatedly slapping the caregiver's hand.
Startled by her sudden movement, the caregiver hurried to adjust the wheelchair’s footrest and pushed her toward the lobby exit.
But the turn was too sharp, the metal footrest on the right side of the wheelchair scraped against a boy who had just broken free from his guardian and was running past.
The boy fell to the ground, and the container of chicken soup in his hands flew out, splashing its warm contents across Mandy’s gauze-wrapped face. The liquid trickled down her collar and into the neckline of her silk undergarment.
The boy opened his mouth and burst into tears.
"How do you push a wheelchair like that! Are you blind?!" A woman rushed over, clutching a thermos. She shoved the caregiver aside and pointed angrily at Mandy. "If my son got hurt, could you even afford the medical bills? And this is a brand new, limited edition down jacket! Are you blind or what?!"
The soup clung to half of Mandy’s face, dripping steadily onto her lap.
In the past, she would have raised her hand and slapped the woman, then called her bodyguards to throw her out the door.
But now, from the corner of her eye, she saw Louis standing a short distance away, watching silently.
"I'll pay... I'll pay." Mandy said, her voice trembling. With her left hand, she fumbled for her phone and unlocked it. "Ten thousand dollars, is that enough? Stop yelling... please stop yelling."
The heavy-set woman stopped shouting, clearly not expecting such a quick agreement.
She held out her phone. "Smart move! Next time you go out, have your family watch you better. If you're disabled, don’t wander around!"
The payment notification chimed. The caregiver quickly pushed the stained Mandy away from the corridor, her steps hurried and uneven.
Elisa watched the wheelchair disappear around the corner, her brow furrowed.
She had never liked Mandy, but seeing this woman who had maintained her dignity for half her life now reduced to this—scolded by strangers, forced to pay and endure humiliation—felt strangely unsettling.
"How did she end up like this?"
A bit... pitiful?
"She chose this path herself." Louis looked away, adjusting the suit jacket draped over Elisa’s shoulders. "Don't waste your sympathy on trash."
Half an hour later, the Maybach pulled into the underground garage of a high-end residential complex downtown.
The property belonged to The York Group, with strict security.
Louis carried Elisa inside and set her down on the leather sofa in the living room, pulling a cashmere blanket over her knees.
"I've arranged for a medical team to stay on standby next door." Louis poured her a glass of water. "Rest at home for the next couple of days. I'll have Jeffrey handle things at the research institute."
"No." Elisa's fingers paused as she reached for the glass. "Workstation 3 just got handed over. There are several medieval variant roots that only I can verify. We can't delay Mr. McCall's progress."
Louis stared at her bandaged right foot, his expression darkening.
"I'll take a cab there. I won't walk around—I'll just sit at my workstation." Elisa softened her tone and looked up at him.
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Louis finally relented.
"Jeffrey will pick you up and drop you off on time every day." Louis made a concession, raising his wrist to check his watch. "I have to deal with some acquisition matters at the company. I'll bring someone over to cook dinner tonight. Don't get it wet."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then turned and walked out.
At two in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Elisa hopped to the entrance on one foot, supporting herself against the wall with her hand.
Through the video intercom screen, she saw who was standing outside.
It wasn't Louis's assistant, nor was it property management. It was Stephen's personal bodyguard.
Elisa hesitated briefly before pressing the button to open the door.
The visitor wore a dark suit, holding three locked, insulated boxes.
"Ms. Roberts, apologies for the disturbance."
"Mr. Shaw heard that you were frightened and injured today. As the institute’s sponsor, Oceanview Group considers it our responsibility to ensure the well-being of key personnel."
Elisa looked at the three locked boxes but didn't reach for them.
"Mr. Shaw is too kind. It's just a minor injury, no need to make such a fuss. Please take these things back."
The bodyguard stood still.
He set down the top wooden box separately on the console table by the door.
"Mr. Shaw said you may refuse the others, but you must accept this one."
The bodyguard opened the wooden box, inside was a small white porcelain jar with delicate blue patterns. "This is a specially formulated ointment. It's very effective for removing scars. Your hands are needed to translate classified documents—they can't have any marks."
At this point, further refusal would seem pretentious.
"Please thank Mr. Shaw for me." Elisa nodded.
The bodyguard put down the items and left. Elisa carried the items into the living room and placed them on the table.
At six o'clock in the evening, the sound of the password lock opening came from the entrance.
Louis pushed the door open and walked in.
He took off his suit and hung it on the coat rack, loosened his tie with one hand, and scanned the living room. His eyes landed on the table.
The three locked, insulated boxes bore the gold-embossed "Oceanview Group" logo, and the white porcelain jar with blue patterns sat prominently in the center.
Louis's pupils contracted, and his jawline tensed into a cold, hard line.
Elisa was sitting in a single armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, reading through foreign-language documents.
Hearing the footsteps stop, she looked up.
"Those are from Mr. Shaw," Elisa spoke frankly. "He said it was the sponsor's gesture of concern for key talent."
Louis snorted and strode to the table, his gaze skimming over the pastries.
Then he pulled out his phone and dialed Jeffrey's number.
"Bring two people up."
In less than a minute, Jeffrey entered with two bodyguards. Seeing Louis’s expression, he lowered his head in silence.
"Pack up this garbage." Louis pointed at the boxes on the table. "Send everything back exactly as it came to Oceanview Group. Tell Stephen that the CEO's wife of The York Group doesn't need his stuff."
Jeffrey stepped forward and gripped the handles of the boxes.
Elisa put down her materials and frowned.
"Stop being ridiculous. He went through the proper channels as a sponsor. If you return them, it'll make things awkward for Mr. McCall."
Jeffrey stood frozen with the boxes in his arms, stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Do it." Louis issued the order. Jeffrey nodded and left with the bodyguards.
The door closed, and Louis pulled out his phone to search for a number.
Forty minutes later, the doorbell rang urgently.
The general manager of The York Group's retail chain, along with more than a dozen uniformly dressed employees, waited outside with flatbed carts.
Boxes of pastries, fruits, and nutritional supplements were carried into the apartment in succession.
The living room floor was filled with stacked cargo boxes, leaving no room to walk.
Elisa looked at the wall of cardboard boxes piling higher and higher before her, her lips parting slightly.
"Have you lost your mind?" She sighed helplessly. "With all this stuff, we couldn't finish it even if it expired."
"If we can't finish them, throw them away." Louis strode over, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her into his embrace.
Their noses almost touching, their warm breaths mingling together.
"Think I bought too much?"
Elisa looked up at the jealousy churning in his eyes, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Mr. York, you're really petty." She commented softly.
"Yes," Louis admitted without hesitation.
He lowered his head and bit her lower lip, playfully punishing but gentle.
"So from now on, stay away from Stephen."