"No, no, it's not lost. I opened it and saw that the painting was so good, thinking it would be a shame to toss it, so I hung it up."
"Where did you hang it up?"
"In my office, on the wall."
"It was the welcome gift from my sister; I hadn't even taken a glance at it, and you went ahead and hung it on your wall??"
The club manager was scared witless; wasn't it Sean who said it wasn't wanted.
"Why didn't you hang your own head up there?"
Although Sean was steaming, he felt relieved that the painting was still intact. "Keep an eye on it and don't touch it; I'll come to fetch it."
After ending the call, Sean tried to get out of bed, but the movement pulled at his wound, causing his eyes to darken, so much so that even his breathing became pained.
"Sean, let me go for you instead; your body hasn't been recovered."
"Then what are you waiting for? Get going!"
"Right away."
