Chapter 655
Money was essential; he couldn’t afford to run dry.
After some thought, the man concluded that he needed to devise new ways to generate income. After all, one could never have too much money. With a plan forming, he retrieved his phone from his suit pocket and made a call.
The call was quickly answered.
“You did well last time,” a young man’s voice rang out. “Stick to the plan for what comes next, and you’ll be well compensated. Just don’t waver when the time comes, because he’s your son.”
“Hesitation isn’t in my playbook. It’s not like I’m ending his life,” the man responded sharply. “That defiant son of mine hasn’t seen me as his father in ages!”
Laughter echoed from the other side. “Very well.”
Satisfied with the conversation, the man stood up, brushed himself off, and walked toward a nearby motel.
The following morning, when Fernanda arrived at the studio, she noticed Neal wasn’t there.
Worried, she gave him a call. Neal answered, his voice tired but steady, explaining that he had a cold and skipped training to avoid spreading it.
“Is it serious?” Fernanda asked, concern evident in her tone. “Let us know if it worsens. We can take you to the hospital.”
“Okay,” Neal replied before hanging up.
Bonita, overhearing the exchange, worried about Neal’s well-being. It made sense now why he seemed off during their conversation the previous night; his mood was clearly affected by his illness.
Bonita seemed preoccupied, prompting Sloane to tease her by nudging her side and winking. “Looks like your crush is under the weather. Going to check up on him?”
Blushing, Bonita quickly dismissed her. “Stop teasing… That’s not it.” Levi chimed in, “Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. We don’t even know Neal’s place.”
A hush fell over everyone at the studio.
It was true; they didn’t know Neal’s exact address. They only had a general idea of the area he lived in, but nothing specific.
No one had ever been given his residential details.
Sloane questioned, “Fernanda, do you know where Neal stays?” They all turned to Fernanda, who was often seen as a source of wisdom.
“I’m not sure either,” Fernanda shook her head.
“Let’s focus on our training,” Bonita quickly said. “It’s just a cold, nothing serious.”
However, mere moments after her reassurance, Bonita dashed out of the studio and began bombarding Neal with urgent texts.
“Are you feeling okay? Is it just a mild cold?”
“Did you manage to eat? Remember to stay hydrated!”
“Do you have any medicine for the cold, or should I stop by the store to get some for you?”
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