Chapter 73 Feel sick and want to throw up

The vase falls on the ground and crashes into pieces.

There seems to be a crack sound on my forehead.

Is my bone fractured?

Blood runs down my forehead. I stand there motionlessly, then Whitney Jordan runs out.

“Miss Noyes, are you okay?”

Whitney Jordan doesn’t expect to hit me, and she looks surprised and scared.

Frances Louis stands at the door and looks at me coldly.

“Frances, drive her to the hospital, she is bleeding!”

My head is buzzing. I look down at the ground, which is stained with blood.

“You drive her to the hospital. I have other business.”

Frances Louis says faintly, and passes me.

The man in front of me is so inhumane that he won't even send me to the hospital. Sure enough, I am
of no value to him except in bed.

The man's back gradually blurs, and my body falls back involuntarily.

“Miss Noyes.”

I hear Whitney Jordan exclaim, then I lost consciousness.

When I wake up, I am in the hospital.



Without Whitney Jordan, Steven Song stands in front of me, frowning.

“You silly girl. I left and you got beaten up like this.” Steven Song purses his lips and gives me a
disdained look.

Instead, he picks up an apple and begins to peel it skillfully.

“I wasn’t beaten up by anybody. It’s an accident.” I purse my lips.

But it seems that I've been suffering too much lately. I must be careful in the future.

Steven Song shrugs.

“Where is Whitney Jordan?” I ask.

I remember when I fainted, she held me up, so she should have brought me to the hospital.

“I don't know. There was nobody here when I came. You poor little thing.”

I smile and say nothing.

I feel strange about Whitney Jordan's previous behaviors. I thought Whitney Jordan stormed out of the
dinner table because she was aloof. But the way she thrown the vase did not look like a lady.

A thought suddenly crosses my mind and makes my heart skip a beat.

“Steven Song, do you think Whitney Jordan knows about my relationship with Frances Louis?”

The more I think about it, the more nervous I feel.

Steven Song stuffs the whole peeled apple into my mouth and rolls his eyes to me. “Don’t scare
yourself. If she knows about you and Frances Louis, you'll be hurt more than a mild concussion.”



Concussion?

My mouth twitches.

I get a concussion from a slight hit. I'm so delicate. I don’t have a lady’s fate, but get the lady’s disease.

The wound on my head is not serious. It’s covered with gauze, which makes me look ugly. Steven
Song asks me to stay in the hospital. He will go to the show himself, but I insist on going with him.

He couldn’t change my mind and help me with the discharge formalities.

I have to find inspiration to design something good for a bonus. Seeing Whitney Jordan scares me so
much I couldn't put it off any longer.

At the evening show, Frances Louis comes, but Whitney Jordan doesn’t.

I am relieved, but don’t dare to sit with Frances Louis, so I ask Steven Song to sit next to Frances
Louis.

The theme of the tonight’s show is shoes and bag. Two bags catch my eye, and the rudiments of
inspiration begins to form in my head.

I take out my phone to take photos and record my inspiration by the way.

“Lift your legs.” The voice of Frances Louis comes, which almost makes me drop my phone.

I look up and see Whitney Jordan's name showed on his phone. It looks like that Whitney Jordan is
calling him.

I look down and stand up to let Frances Louis out. He goes to the corner and answers the phone.



From time to time, I look over at him and see that he is a little anxious, his face looking not very good,
and finally he takes off his tie impatiently.

It is rare to see Frances Louis be such ill-mannered, and I do not know what Whitney Jordan has said
to him.

About five minutes later, he hangs up and walks back. I take my eyes back, pretending to be absorbed
in the show.

Suddenly, I get the impulse to vomit.

I cover my mouth to retch, and Frances Louis's eyes darken as he looks at me.

The nausea grows stronger and my mouth begins to taste sour. Feeling uncomfortable at his gaze, I
get up and go to the bathroom.

Steven Song notices something is wrong and follows me.

“What’s wrong?” He asks me with concern.

“Nothing, I feel dizzy and…”

Before I could finish, I lean on the sink and vomit.

After vomiting, my whole body feels comfortable. But my head is still a little dizzy. There is blood
exuding on the gauze, probably because I vomited too hard.

“Are you pregnant?” Steven Song looks at me worriedly and blurts out this question.


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