At the children's VIP ward of Royal Haven Medical Center, the sterile air was thick with the sugary scent of chocolate and candy.
Propped up against a mountain of pristine white pillows, Tate Wood tore into another pack of gummy bears and chocolate cookies with the ferocity of a starved wolf, crumbs raining down like confetti onto the spotless sheets.
His left wrist was bound in a neat white bandage, and the tip of his nose was an angry shade of red, puffed slightly from the earlier punch. But the pain did nothing to dampen his appetite.
By either side of his bed, two uniform made stood like sentinels, ready to attend to his every wimp, while his personal nanny hovered around him like a loving mother there bear.
"I want more cookies," Tate demanded, his voice sharp and unapologetic, as he licked the chocolate from his pudgy fingers.
