She hadn't intended to care but couldn't help glancing towards the sofa.
With just one glance, she was startled and quickly jogged over to the sofa.
The man's face on the sofa was ashen, his forehead covered in cold sweat, clutching his stomach, eyes tightly shut, and thin lips pressed into a straight line.
Enna Clark hurriedly put down the water cup, squatted in front of him, and pushed his shoulder, "Baron Lawrence, what's wrong with you? Where do you feel unwell?"
"Is it your stomach?"
She frowned, looked around, saw no sign of Scott Harris, and felt both anxious and angry.
"Where is Mr. Harris?"
She was anxious because he looked like he was in terrible stomach pain. Angry because he had the nerve to drink alcohol — she hadn't caused this to happen to him.
Enna found the stomach medicine he had left on the coffee table, opened the cap, took out two pills, and patted the man with closed eyes, "Baron Lawrence, wake up, take a pill first."
