After having breakfast with the CEO, Nia Mitchell had her wrist pulled by the CEO to apply medicine again.
"Uncle, look, I'm all better."
As she spoke, Nia Mitchell moved her hand a little.
Seeing her like this, Maxwell Peary couldn't help but frown.
"Being able to move doesn't mean it's healed."
Looking at the lingering bruises, his expression grew even darker.
"Huh? But it doesn't hurt anymore."
"Not hurting doesn't mean it's healed."
Nia Mitchell's mouth twitched. So how can it be determined to be healed?
Are they waiting for the bruises to completely disappear?
That's impossible, it'll take days.
"No way, I know my own hand; if I say it's fine, then it's fine."
Not allowing the CEO to say anything more, Nia Mitchell finished her sentence and then covered the CEO's mouth with her left hand.
"Nod quickly, say my hand is already fine."
Maxwell Peary: ......
Whose childish girl is this?
Please take her away quickly.
"Nod quickly!"
