Presley paused for a moment before saying, "Now that you''re the vice president


    of the association, it doesn''t make sense to just sit around. Get her to the association tomorrow."


    Grant was caught off guard. He remembered David specifically mentioning not to involve Ms. Mirabe, and he had seen the agreement they signed. So he said, "Ms. Mirabe is a student, and David had promised not to pressure her intoing to the association..."


    Before Grant could finish, Presley raised a hand to cut him off, "Many of David''s decisions were wed. If there''s an issue, it needs fixing. Just get her over here."


    Grant''s frown was slight but noticeable. In the end, he didn''t have much choice but to nod, "Alright, I''ll reach out to herter."


    "Good," Presley mused about the prescription that girl had writtenst time, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "Make sure shees."


    Grant replied, "I''ll try my best."


    Presley pped Grant on the shoulder, "Don''t let me down."


    With that, he pulled his hand back, nced at the closed medicine storage room door, and with a slight twitch of his lips, turned and left without going back inside.


    Once Presley was out of sight, Grant let out a deep breath. Watching the retreating figure, he sighed inwardly and fished out his keys to unlock and re-enter the medicine storage room.


    He ced a bottle marked as Grade S back into the cab.


    Presley had made it clear that not a single medicine in the storeroom should go missing, which was a warning not to take any, even for David.


    With a rueful smile, Grant closed the cab. The association''s dynamics had shifted, and he had to look out for himself; he had no other option.


    Presley''s methods were not something he could afford to challenge.


    Soon after, he left the storage room.


    Half an hourter, Grant drove over to where David was staying.


    "Hey, President, feeling any better?" Grant asked, concern etched on his face as he noticed David''s paleplexion. "I wanted to bring you the medicine, but I bumped into Presley."


    David, propped up in bed, waved a


    association had drained him, "It''s alright. I know what Presley''s like."


    Sive hand. The recent turmoil


    Grant still felt guilty, "You haven''t even officially stepped down, and he''s already pushing so hard. What


    will happen to your health wi


    the medicine?"


    Isn''t this just like slowly wearing someone down?


    David shook his head with a faint smile, "I''ll manage. I can hang in there." After a moment, he asked, "Has Paul found anyone yet?"


    "No, I can''t get through to him, and he''s not responding to messages," Grant said, frowning. He''d been trying to reach him almost every day.


    David coughed a couple of times before asking, "What did Presley say about it?"


    "He asked about Paul a few days ago but hasn''t mentioned it since," Grant replied honestly.


    Hearing this, David looked puzzled. Knowing Presley''s nature, he wouldn''t just drop the search for Paul without results.


    After thinking for a moment, David advised, "Keep an eye on who Presley is


    talking to. I''m worried Paul might already be under his thumb."


    Grant nodded, "Don''t worry, I''ll keep tabs on it. Oh, and President, Presley wants me to get Ms. Mirabe to the association."