Today, Assistant Cheney was driving.
The car passed through the evening, driving into a brightly lit compound.
In the backseat, Keane Lowell held someone in his arms as always.
The young girl lay bonelessly on him, sleeping peacefully and adorably. You could faintly hear her even breathing.
Finally, the car stopped in front of a standalone villa.
The inside of the car was shrouded in dimness.
Assistant Cheney glanced at the rearview mirror, noting that the little doctor remained asleep, and the boss could carry her until dawn broke.
He withdrew his gaze, opened the door silently, and got out.
Only the couple remained in the car.
The person in his arms showed no sign of waking up. After sitting quietly for a while, Keane glanced down at her, held her hand, and gently shook it.
The girl's body suddenly tensed in her sleep, then she opened her eyes.
She looked at him sleepily, her voice somewhat soft and delicate: "Are we there?"
"We're there."
