Jacques darted forward in a single stride, his voice tense and anxious, “Vivian, are you alright?”
Vivian’s face was pale, her body weak, looking like someone who had been gravely wronged.
Her lips trembled slightly, and her tear-filled eyes glistened with pitiful innocence. “Jacques, I’m fine.”
Jacques bent down and scooped her up from the floor, cradling her carefully as he placed her back on the bed.
Vivian’s delicate arms wrapped around his neck, and as she turned to glance at Sheila, a triumphant and provocative smirk played on her lips.
It was then Sheila realized—this was most likely an act orchestrated by the Millor sisters.
"Vivian, are you hurt?" Jacques’ eyes were filled with worry as he looked at her.
Vivian feigned a strong front and said, “Jacques, I’m fine. Please don
