Anticipating relief, Bruce was dismayed to find the ice cubes utterly ineffective. The agonizing pain and severe swelling persisted unabated.

His face contorted in anguish, Bruce, once a formidable warden, now crumpled to the ground, resembling a little girl soiling her skirt and weeping in a muddy puddle.

Concerned, Camilla queried, “Mr. Warden, is it any better?”

Bruce shook his head between sobs, despairingly admitting, “Help me think of something. I can’t endure this. It’s too much…”

Flustered, Camilla stammered, “I can’t think of anything…”

Then, she suggested, “What if I call 911 for help? Should I?”

“No!” Bruce blurted, realizing the consequences. “Calling 911 would ruin all of us!”

Bruce comprehended the peril of being in a federal prison, with the Rothschild family connections. A scandal tonight could ruin his career and relationships.

Enduring the torment, he pleaded, “Go to my pocket, get my phone. I need to make a call, find someone to help.”

Relieved at the thought of assistance, Camilla hurriedly retrieved Bruce’s phone.

Bruce’s call for help wasn’t directed at Jagoan, the recent acquaintance, but at a friend, a physician at a nearby hospital.

Impatiently, Bruce exclaimed, “Mark, where are you?”

A middle-aged voice responded, “On duty at the hospital. What’s wrong?”

“I’m in trouble. You might be the

alarmed, inquired, “Bruce,

a life-threatening situation, and you’re

the gravity, offered, “Where

alone might be ill-equipped, Bruce insisted, “Prepare a private treatment room. No other doctor should

brother… It’s at least two or three times bigger than usual. I feel like

shit!” Mark exclaimed, “Did

like it’s

cursed, urging, “Hurry to the hospital. I’ll prepare the room. If it’s as bad as you say, time is of the essence.

He tossed the phone aside, locking eyes with Camilla and the other girl, urgency in

concern evident, unconsciously uttered, “Warden, you… I’m afraid you can’t put on pants

sinking feeling in his heart. The awkward posture made wearing pants impossible unless he opted

a sudden burst of inspiration, Camilla suggested, “Warden, how about I get

hesitation, urging, “Go quickly, fetch it for

sunglasses and masks, flanked Bruce Weinstein, hastily wrapped in a

mercy, each step delivering torture akin to needles relentlessly piercing him. Yet, he understood the gravity

underground garage, Camilla, behind the wheel of Bruce Weinstein’s car,

at the hospital entrance. Bruce Weinstein’s close

and opened the door. Witnessing Bruce Weinstein curled up in pain,

the brink, retorted, “Mark, it’s not April Fool’s Day. I don’t have the energy for pranks. For God’s

Bruce Weinstein out of the car. Observing Bruce’s silhouette through the

Weinstein, exasperated, exclaimed, “Mark, I’m not

preparing injections, reassured, “I’ll administer relief drugs first. Then, we’ll perform an angiogram to check

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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