Chapter 290

Chapter 290

Caleb made his daily pilgrimage to Golden Grove Manors, lugging a hefty stack of documents for Curtis to review before carting them back to the office.

He had quickly adapted to the president’s new choice of workplace, now navigating the route like the back of his hand.

Twice a day, morning and evening, he’d show up at Golden Grove Manors, practically one step away from moving in.

Meetings had shifted to virtual sessions, the top brass of ElitePinnacle, always

impeccably dressed, would sit in their spotless conference room, staring at the screen showcasing their boss’ distinguished features.

Their never-say-die, workaholic president had been working from home for three days

now.

Lounging lazily on an off-white couch, with a vibrant, spring-themed painting hanging behind him, it was clear this wasn’t his usual style.

But even in relaxation, his work ethic hadn’t dipped a bit.

Flipping through a corporate due diligence report, he frowned, “Do you all work without a brain at work when I’m not there? If I see another report like this, don’t bother bringing it to me; just hand it directly to the janitor for recycling. Might fetch a penny or two.”

The red-faced manager stammered a promise to reprimand his team.

A nearby alarm chimed, set by Leanne to remind him to take his medication.

Curtis reached over to silence it. “That’s all, folks. Meeting adjourned.”

Leanne had prepped his medication before work, neatly labeled in a pillbox. Caleb hande it over without Curtis sparing it a glance, tersely instructing, “Second door on the right. Flush it.”

Caleb attempted to counsel, “Mr. Richardson, you really should take your medicine. Toughing it out might do more harm than good to your body.”

Curtis dismissed the concern, “It’s just the flu. Won’t kill me.”

As he finished his sentence, the sound of unlocking signaled Leanne’s return.

Caleb greeted her with a nod. “Ma’am.”

Leanne acknowledged him, her gaze drifting past to Curtis, who, moments ago, had been dismissive of his flu, now snug under a blanket on the couch. His meticulously buttoned shirt was now undone at the top, his hair slightly tousled.

In mere seconds, he had transformed from debonair to delicately unwell-a change so

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quick it caught Caleb off guard.

Curtis shot him a “nothing more to see here” look.

Caleb took the hint, “I’ll be off then,” exiting with the report deemed worthless.

Leanne, shedding her coat to reveal a cozy turtleneck sweater that accentuated her gentle grace, had her hair pinned up, leaving a few strands to frame her face.

She approached and inquired, “Feeling any better?”

Curtis was about to respond when she produced a mercury thermometer.

“You’ve had a high fever for three days. If it doesn’t break, we’re going to the hospital.”

Despite advancements, the mercury thermometer remained a trusted tool for accurate readings. Leanne shook it down and offered it to him.

Curtis hesitated, then complied, sitting still as he took his temperature.

After five minutes, Leanne checked the thermometer, “Your fever broke?”

“Yeah,” Curtis replied, cool as ever, no sign of the looming dread, “Wanted to tell you, but I’ve been blacklisted by you, couldn’t reach you.”

“I’ve been on your blacklist that long, time to let me out?”

Leanne ignored his quip, her suspicion lingering on the thermometer. She fetched an ear thermometer for a double check.

Curtis dodged, capturing her wrist, “My fever’s gone, no need for more checks.”

“Stay still,” Leanne insisted, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

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