Chapter 402: Chapter 402

Chapter 402:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

“Thank you, Ms. Clarke,” Kellan said, his breath labored as he glanced down at the neat knot she had tied across his chest. “But I’m afraid I’ll need to trouble you a bit more. I can’t stay here.”

In the distance, voices grew louder.

The explosion hadn’t just nearly drowned them; it had also attracted attention. The last thing Kellan needed was to be seen, especially if it was discovered that the famous racing driver, Turbo, was in fact the well-known CEO of the Lloyd Group—who was supposed to be incapacitated.

“Ferdinand will take care of the aftermath here, and I need to get back to the Lloyd family estate,” Kellan said, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead with each word.

Allison didn’t hesitate. “Got it. I know a small path nearby that can help us avoid them. It’s not well-known, but it’ll help us stay out of sight. I’ll guide you through it.”

She shifted to stand, but her legs, numb from crouching for so long, gave out beneath her. She stumbled and fell against Kellan’s chest.

For a brief moment, she could hear the steady beat of his heart, though she wasn’t sure if it was his or hers. Steeling herself, Allison stood again and helped Kellan to his feet.

“The path’s tricky, so stay close,” she said, leading the way.

The trail was barely visible, overgrown with thorns and branches that snagged at their clothes. It took considerable effort to navigate, but eventually, they managed to slip away from the scene and catch a cab to the Lloyd family mansion.

As soon as they arrived, Jim, the butler, rushed forward, his eyes wide with shock. His voice trembled as he hurried to support Kellan. “Sir! What happened to you? Call the family doctor, now!”

Jim nodded and immediately made the call. Kellan had given strict orders not to go to the hospital, knowing the consequences if word got out.

But the first person to walk through the door wasn’t the doctor; it was Floyd.

With a smirk that oozed arrogance, Floyd sauntered in, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Well, well, looks like Mr. Lloyd isn’t indestructible after all.”

Kellan, sitting slumped on the couch, glared up at him, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

Floyd wasn’t fazed by Kellan’s cold demeanor. He casually pulled out a bottle of medicine from his kit and prepared a syringe.

“Who else? Allison called me.” Without waiting for permission, Floyd swiftly administered the injection.

Allison, sensing the rising tension between them, broke the silence. “I asked him to come. You know Floyd’s medical skills. I trust no one else.” Floyd gave a gentle smile, silently affirming his position as the most trusted person in her life. There was no doubt about it.

Kellan remained silent, his jaw tight, fighting against the searing pain as Floyd tended to his wounds. His already pale skin seemed to drain of even more color as the agony stung.

“This remedy I developed,” Floyd explained, his tone softening with concern. “It’s excellent for pain relief and to stop bleeding. Change the dressing daily, and… you’ll need to lie on your stomach for a week to let it heal properly.”

Floyd’s gaze lingered on Kellan for a moment before he continued, a hint of unease in his voice. “From what I’ve heard, the type of micro-bomb you described isn’t something that circulates freely. It’s a secret weapon developed in Vrining, one with almost no channels for external distribution. Yet somehow, it had been planted here—right in the heart of the competition.”

.

.

.