Third Year in the Psychiatric Hospital - Chapter 117

Chapter 117 Chapter 117 A Test of Nerves Finished The back garden housed a glass conservatory, where rare lish and a seascape surreal, dazzling, dreamlike. As they walked, Taylor glanced sideways at Yunice, noting how calm and composed she was, seemingly moved by the Kendall Lamily's extravagance.

What Taylor didn't know was that Yunice had grown up seeing this kind of opulence in the Powell family this kind of opulence in the Powell tan They climbed the spiral staircase until they reached the fourth-floor sky garden Gerardo was sitting at a table while a casually dressed doctor slowly moved a stethoscope over his chest Yunice stared at the man's back-it looked strangely familiar. Out of respect, Taylor said nothing quietly waiting for the examination to end. "Mr. Gerando, it's the same old problem. You've been skipping meals again, haven't you? The doctor turned around it was Joe.

Yunice recognized his voice immediately and subaly angled her face away, keeping herself out of view. Of all the people...never expected the Kendall family to bring in de. And if Joe's here could Wyatt be here to Taylor stepped forward and placed a hand on her father's shoulder, scolding him gently, "Dad, I've been sending meals to your office every day. You're telling me you're too busy to even take a few bites?" Gerardo, a man with a broad, composed face, frowned.

"You've never run a business, so you wouldn't understand-once things get moving, there's no time, and honestly, no appetite either: Taylor wanted to argue, but Gerardo raised a hand to silence her. She turned to Joc instead. "Dr. Joe, is my dad's condition treatalile?" This wasn't Joe's first time examining Gerardo. He stuck to his usual assessment, medicine alone wouldn't help-Gerardo needed to start taking better care of himself. Taylor didn't press further and personally walked Joe out. Gerardo sat back down at the table, one hand pressed against his stomach.

As he looked up, he finally noticed someone else standing nearby. She was wrapped up tightly, her identity concealed. Jusi then, several footsteps echoed from the glass staircase. One set was the sharp click of heels-Taylor's The offic... was a calle. Yunice instinctively turned around, her palms tightening, eyes locked on the approaching figure. First came Taylor's face. Then a head of short hair appeared behind her. Finally, a pair of eyes-cool, unreadable, holding a Yunice's heart jumped to her throat. Why does standing in front of art always feel like I'm doing something wrong?