?<strong>Chapter 495:</strong>


    Kristopher headed toward the window to handle the payment, but Carrie gently pulled on his sleeve. “I’m going to check on him first,” she said, her voice soft.


    Kristopher shot her a quick, indifferent nce. “What could possibly be wrong with him? He’s just sitting there, isn’t he?”


    Carrie blinked in surprise before yfully punching Kristopher on the shoulder. “He’s your nephew, after all. Mind your words!”


    Kristopher pressed his tongue against his back teeth, a hint of indifference flickering across his face. He didn’t argue back.


    With her hands tucked into the oversized pockets of her hoodie, looking almost childlike, Carrie approached Daxton and softly called his name, “Daxton.”


    He lifted his head, his pale face devoid of color, his lips almost white. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he forced a weak smile. “Carrie, I’m sorry for bothering you sote.”


    Carrie’s expression turned slightly concerned. “Daxton, if you keep being so polite with me, I’ll get mad.”


    She pulled a small thermos from her pocket and held it out to him. “It’s red date and brown sugar tea. I got it from ate-night snack shop on the way here. I kept it warm in my pocket, so it’s still hot.”


    Daxton hesitated, his hand motionless. Instead, he smiled faintly and replied, “I’m not into sweet drinks like youdies.”


    Carrie frowned, her voice firm yet gentle. “What does it matter if you’re a man or a woman? You look like a ghost right now—you need this to replenish your blood.” Her gaze drifted to his bandaged arm. Blood had seeped through the gauze, blooming like a dark red flower against the stark white.


    Feel the thrill at g aln  ov el s .


    Reluctantly, Daxton took the cup with his uninjured hand. Carrie bent down and twisted the lid open for him. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulder, brushing against his cheek. The faint scent of gardenia from her shampoo filled the air, perfectly matching her demeanor—fresh, soft, yet elegant.


    Up close, Daxton noticed a faint red mark peeking out from behind Carrie’s ear through her hair. His throat tightened, and the memory of her passionately kissing Kristopher flooded his mind, a twisted mix of pain and longing.


    Carrie sat down beside him, settling close to his injured arm. She tilted her head, her eyes filled with concern. “Is it serious? Where exactly are you hurt?”


    Daxton shrugged as if it were nothing. “It’s just a scratch. I wasn’t paying attention and got nicked by a brat with scissors.”


    Before Carrie could respond, a nurse emerged from the nearby treatment room. She had overheard the conversation and immediately chimed in, “A scratch? The wound was nearly to the bone—you needed over forty stitches! You must take good care of it at home and keep it dry. With this heat, an infection could get serious fast.”


    Carrie immediately nodded, her voice polite. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll make sure he listens.”


    The nurse turned to Carrie with a warm gaze and joked, “Your girlfriend is so beautiful. You really should listen to her.”


    Carrie froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Before she could correct the nurse, Kristopher stepped forward, his arm sliding possessively around her shoulders. “You misunderstood,” he said curtly. “He’s our nephew.”


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