The Billionaire’s Treasure Wife

Chapter 70: I won’t Marry Him



Tankard’s tone was very unfriendly, but those words still sounded a bit happy in Bruce’s ears.

With his words, as long as Lindsey agreed, everything was still up to him.

After a few seconds of beautiful thinking, Tankard’s loud, tiger-like voice rang out again: “Concentrate!”

“Oh …” Bruce pulled back his thoughts and watched intently.

Old Mr. Heard’s kung fu is the ancestral heritage of The Heard family, belonging to the kind of both internal and external training. Bruce’s age, the practice of Qi is not necessary, mainly to learn the stance.

The company’s main goal is to provide the best possible service to its customers.

Bruce’s eyes are a little bit awe-inspiring, and he looks back at it carefully and puts up his stance and plays it with style.

The fact that Bruce is very talented was evident to her when her grandfather first taught him the art of boxing.

With a smile on her face, she walked up to Tankard’s side and asked softly in a lowered voice, “Grandpa said that kung fu is not passed on, so you’re breaking the rules, big brother.”

“Lindsey, I’m not comfortable with you.” Tankard coolly returned: “Besides, he will marry you sooner or later, it is better to teach now than to wait for the day, when you are bullied.”

Lindsey sniffed and choked on her own saliva. “Marry me? Brother you do not have a fever, right? I didn’t say I’d marry him, and I won’t marry him.”

Why does Bruce have to be her boyfriend?

Besides, even if her kung fu was bad, it wasn’t so bad that she could easily be beaten half to death.

Tankard froze, scrutinizing her for a long time, and then said, “You don’t like him?”

“Of course not, if I can’t recover for the rest of my life, won’t I have a miserable life?” Lindsey frowned. “Why are you guys so weird? I sympathize with him, not like.”

Tankard swallowed and pretended to be serious. “I’ll be that metaphorical, he’s only half healed and you’ll have to take care of him for a while.”

Lindsey bristled and inclined her head to look at Bruce.

Bruce, who happened to have completed a full set of punches, turned around and bumped into Lindsey’s gaze, naturally sliding his wheelchair closer over.

“Come again!” Tankard stopped him in time to glare back at Lindsey: “Go get lunch ready, Grandpa will be awake soon.”

Lindsey shrugged and reluctantly responded, turning her head and going into the house.

Adem came over to visit Old Mr. Grant at noon, and his parents came too, Lindsey stayed with them for a while and politely sent them away.

“Lindsey, if you need any help, just say hello, I’m just free for the next few days.” Adem was not very reassuring.

Lindsey smiled and nodded, waved her hand and folded back into the house.

After two or three days of peace and quiet, Old Mr. Heard’s illness became more and more severe and could not be controlled even with the injection. Just returned to be able to drink some rice soup, but now even water is difficult.

Early that morning, Lindsey, who had been with him all night, woke up and found that Old Mr. Grant could not be woken up by any kind of screaming.

Tankard, who was sleeping next door, rushed in and was the first to check his breathing and pulse, looking grim. A little later, Maximus and Warren came rushing in, each as pale as the earth.

Lindsey wiped away her tears, turned back to Fiona, explained, and continued to lie in front of the bed, weeping.

Bruce arrived, looked at Lindsey with distress and chose to stay behind.

The air pressure in the room was low, Lindsey was half on her knees, sticking needles into Old Mr. Grant over and over again, her tears were like broken beads, and she couldn’t stop them.

Fiona comforted her with her mouth, but she couldn’t help but cry.

In the cloud of sorrow, Old Mr. Heard finally struggled to open his eyes, cloudy eyes swept from the faces of the siblings, and finally fell on Lindsey, mouth open, trembling voice: “Do not cry … do not cry.”

“Grandpa, I can’t let you go.” Lindsey child-like hug Old Mr. Heard’s arm, whimpering out: “I do not want you to go.”

“Listen to ….” Old Mr. Heard struggled to raise his hand, coarse fingers fell to Lindsey’s face, tenderly rubbed twice: “In the future … take good care of … yourself, more … listen to your brother’s … words.”

“I will, I will …,” Lindsey broke down and cried, grabbing his hand hard and not letting go.

Tankard vigorously wiped away the tears, and flung himself down on his knees: “Grandpa, don’t worry, we will protect Lindsey.”

As soon as Tankard knelt, Maximus and Warren also knelt down and kowtowed heavily.

After explaining the aftermath, Old Mr. Heard had some difficulty in breathing, greeting them to get up, he looked over one by one, his cloudy gaze revealing a strong sense of reluctance.

Lindsey couldn’t even stand up, and tears were pouring out of her eyes like a dike. The choking sound, Old Mr. Heard face with a smile, slowly dozing eyelids …Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“Grandpa …” Lindsey jumped on him like crazy, hissing and crying.

Tankard shook his hands, grief-stricken, tested Old Mr. Heard’s breathing and pulse, and again flung himself to his knees.

The family broke down into tears, Bruce’s chest was tight, and the tissue in his hand was already soaked.

After an unknown amount of time, Tankard wiped away his tears, picked up Old Mr. Heard in his arms, and walked back to the old house one step at a time.

Lindsey knew that she couldn’t help with the next step of bathing and changing her grandfather into his birthday suit. So she did as Fiona told her and sat honestly in the yard, waiting.

Bruce slid his wheelchair to her side and held her hand lovingly, without saying anything.

Lindsey stared at him blankly, once again saddened, cried out on his lap: “Bruce, I don’t have a home anymore, I don’t have a grandfather …”

“Good girl, you still have brother, sister-in-law, and me!” Bruce patted her back and whispered coaxingly, “Grandpa will be uneasy when you are like this.”

“Bruce is right, Lindsey you don’t feel too bad.” Fiona advised a sentence, tears flowing more fiercely than her.

Lindsey cried a lot, her heart felt a little better, and suddenly remembered that Fiona was pregnant, and blamed herself.

In the afternoon, Old Mr. Heard’s body was buried. The gentleman in town also calculated the date of burial, the siblings began to plan the funeral.

Lindsey was unable to help and lost her appetite, unable to eat a single bite of food.

The first night was Tankard’s wake, and he stayed at the wake until 12:00. Lindsey was blown back to her room, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, so she quietly got up, put on her coat and went to the medical clinic.

Bruce slid his wheelchair around and saw no one, so he went straight out to the doctor’s office.

The town’s lights were yellow at midnight, and the sky was bright with stars, so when Bruce arrived at the door, he saw the lights on inside, and his chest choked.

He went in and took the door with him, he went to the backyard and saw Lindsey cowering in the pavilion, helpless as a child.

He stopped in the dark, remembering for no reason her words of reprimand in B City, and his heart ached.

Slowly sliding his wheelchair to her side, Bruce took off his jacket and put it on her, gently advising, “It’s cold outside, go back inside.”

Lindsey lifted her head and sniffled uncomfortably, “Can you hold me?”


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