Twins in Her Womb: Sir President, Please be Gentle by Heap Heap

"You're right." He agreed and buried his jaw in her neck.

A wave of ticklish heat washed over Luca, causing her to feel even hotter.

"If they're after the money, is the Mallory family able to pay the demanded amount for Pierre?" she asked.

Pierre had become a disgrace to the Mallory family now. He had caused so much trouble that if it were not for

Madam Mallory, no one would be willing to clean up his mess.

Even Old Master Mallory's heart had grown cold toward him.

Would Old Master Mallory really give the money to Pierre if Abel asked the Mallory family for the ransom?

"Pierre can't get into any trouble now," said Luke. Even if Old Master Mallory refused to give the money, he would

not just sit there and watch Pierre suffer at the hands of his kidnappers.

However, Pierre must be going through a lot of pain at the moment.

...

On the other hand.

Pierre was still tied to a chair with a dirty, smelly piece of cloth stuffed in his mouth. His right leg was fastened to

two pieces of ragged wood, while his other leg was tied to the chair.

He had been in this position all night.

Pierre only moved a little when someone walked into the room. He lifted his head and stared fiercely at the man

with ethnic features in front of him.

The man saw Pierre move and laughed. "Well, it's been a night and you're still alive. I thought your life was worth a

lot. I didn't think you would survive the night."

Pierre lowered his head again.

The man bent down and drew the rag out of his mouth. "Here. I'll give you a chance to talk."

"Water," replied Pierre. Even though he hated the man and wanted to growl at him, all he had in mind was to

quench his thirst first.

"Tsk," the man replied impatiently. He initially refused to talk to him. However, he remembered Abel's orders. He

could not let Pierre die. He had no choice but to turn around and pick up an opened bottle of water and hold it up to

Pierre's lips. "Drink."

Pierre looked at the bottle that someone had already drunk from and frowned with resistance.

"Still picky, huh? Do you think this is Mallory Manor? I'll count to three. You won't have anything to drink if you refuse

to open your mouth,” threatened the man.

It was just that people like Pierre were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. They could not do any work. Also,

they felt superior to others and looked down on others due to their privileged upbringing.

However, when facing kidnappers like him, were they all not stripped of their pride? Pierre even had to fight for a

shot at survival.

Pierre knew he would walk the talk. He opened his mouth weakly and let the man pour the water into his mouth.

Pierre was thirsty. He had not drunk anything that day. As the water flowed down his esophagus and into his

stomach, it relieved the burning sensation in his throat.

Pierre initially rejected the bottle of water but was now opening his mouth, wanting more. The man smiled

disdainfully. "Tsk. Mr. Pierre, do you know what you look like now?"

Pierre ignored him and only lowered his head after finishing the water in the bottle.

The man sneered, "You look like a thirsty dog. Consider yourself unlucky for offending our boss."

Another man walked into the room as soon as he finished his sentence.

"Yes?" asked the man who just came in.

"Alexsei, why did you only wake up now? You just missed out on a good show. It was interesting to see Mr. Pierre

drinking water like a thirsty dog." The man shook the empty bottle in his hand, obviously in a good mood because of

what Pierre did just now.

"Kazimir, you'd better not kill him. Otherwise, you won't be able to explain to Boss later," Alexsei reminded him in a

low voice. The man in front of him acted as a bargaining chip for Abel to get his hands on his money.

"Don't worry. He's tough. He didn't even make a sound when he got his leg broken," sneered Kazimir.

Alexsei frowned. "Why is his face so red? What did you do?"

"I did nothing. I was kind enough to get him some water." Kazimir shook his head and looked carefully at Pierre's

face. His face was slightly red.

Alexsei came forward. He placed his hand on Pierre's forehead to feel his temperature. "It's hot. He's got a fever."

"Come on. It's just a broken leg. How can he have a fever?" Kazimir refused to believe it. He rested his hand on

Pierre's forehead too. "Tsk. He's really sensitive. It took me two days to remove the bullet when I got shot in the leg.

I didn't even have a fever. He's too weak."

"Are you assuming everyone is like you?" Alexsei rolled his eyes. He had heard the story so many times that he

started to find it annoying.

Kazimir shrugged his shoulders.

"Let's carry him inside. We have to bring his fever down and give him some antibiotics," suggested Alexsei as he

untied the ropes that tied Pierre up. Then, he lifted him and grabbed him on his left shoulder.

"Such a hassle," grumbled Kazimir. However, he still came over to lift Pierre and grab his right shoulder.

Both of them were Russians. They were much taller and stronger than Pierre. That was why they could easily carry

Pierre to another room.

Pierre looked around the room. It looked like a simple clinic.

"Go get some medicine and give him an injection," said Kazimir.