CHAPTER 443: MR. STEPHEN DO YOU HAVE A WOMAN YOU LOVE?

"President Mega, your endurance is impressive," Camilla remarked, her hands never pausing in their meticulous work.

"The most critical part is next—please keep it up."

Judging by Madam Luther’s tone, the previous pain had merely been an appetizer?

The butler’s brow twitched, his expression laced with concern as he watched Stephen.

Beads of sweat dotted Stephen’s pallid face, his lips pressed into a tight line as he gave a stiff nod, brows furrowed deeply.

Stephen was no stranger to pain.

In fact, quite the opposite. From childhood, his tolerance for pain had far surpassed that of ordinary people—a testament to his inherently restrained disposition.

But the sharp, searing agony radiating through his leg now was nothing like the superficial wounds he had endured before.

Meanwhile, Sinclair lounged in his chair, long legs crossed at the ankles.

His slender fingers idly toyed with the obsidian ring on his hand, his strikingly handsome face an impassive mask.

Only his dark, unwavering gaze—fixed on Camilla—held a trace of warmth.

Camilla continued her methodical work, her movements precise and unhurried.

To Stephen, it felt as though his leg were being shattered inch by inch, only to be painstakingly pieced back together again.

His jaw was clenched tight, veins bulging prominently on his arms.

Good lord.

Why did he feel like his boss was about to reach his limit?

The butler noticed Stephen’s body trembling faintly from excruciating pain and tensed up as well.

His eyes darted anxiously between the needles being inserted into the leg and Stephen himself, ready to intervene if the man could no longer endure it.

Who would have thought the delicate-looking Mrs. Luther could be so ruthless with her hands? Of course, he only dared to think that to himself.

"Just two more needles, and we’re done," Camilla suddenly paused and looked at Stephen.

Finally, it was almost over. It had been a long time since time had felt this agonizingly slow.

Stephen gave a slow nod, his clothes completely drenched in cold sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

"Mr. Mega, is there someone you love?"

Instead of proceeding immediately, Camilla spoke in a casual, conversational tone. Someone he loved?

Stephen froze in surprise.

On one hand, he was taken aback by Camilla’s sudden question.

On the other hand, his mind involuntarily conjured up a certain figure.

The butler beside him was equally stunned. Why would Madam Luther bring this up out of the blue?

Sinclair, however, seemed to have anticipated Camilla’s move.

The fingers toying with his obsidian ring paused briefly before resuming their idle motion.

A deeper smile curved his lips as he poured a cup of tea and set it aside.

While the two men were still processing the unexpected turn, Camilla lowered her gaze.

Her hands moved swiftly, driving the final two needles into the crucial acupuncture points on Stephen’s legs.

There was no helping it—these particular points were too sensitive.

The more tense his muscles were, the harder it would be to proceed.

She had to divert his attention to help him relax.

"Ah—"

The pain in his legs flared to an unbearable peak in an instant.

Stephen let out a stifled groan, his entire body lurching forward as if about to collapse from the wheelchair.

"Sir!!"

Fortunately, the butler had been alert.

With lightning reflexes, he steadied Stephen’s drenched, trembling form before it could topple over.

Stephen’s endurance was clearly reaching its limit.

His body trembled faintly, his legs—pierced with silver needles—quivering uncontrollably.

Veins bulged along his neck and the backs of his hands, stark against his pale skin.

"Madam Luther, boss" The butler frowned deeply, his face etched with concern as he turned to Camilla.

Though it was a good sign that his boss could feel his legs again, the pain he was enduring now seemed unbearable.

"Restoring the neural pathways in his legs can’t be painless," Camilla said calmly, observing Stephen’s reactions with quiet satisfaction.

She rose and took a seat beside Sinclair.

"How are you feeling?"

Sinclair pressed the back of his hand against the teacup, ensuring the temperature was just right before handing it to Camilla.

"I’m fine," she reassured him, knowing he was worried she might collapse like she had after treating Taylor.

She offered him a soft smile.

"The one suffering here is President Mega."

And she wasn’t exaggerating.

Taylor’s poison had been concentrated in his bloodstream, requiring an entirely different technique—one that demanded extreme precision and drained the practitioner’s energy.

Although Stephen’s leg condition wasn’t exactly mild, compared to last time, it was like comparing a drizzle to a downpour.

After completing the acupuncture treatment, Camilla barely felt any strain.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to chat casually midway through, diverting Stephen’s attention.

Sinclair’s dark eyes softened slightly when he saw that Camilla truly seemed unbothered.

With half an hour left to wait, Camilla’s gaze wandered to the chessboard beside the tea table out of boredom.

"Sweetheart, let’s play a game of chess."

She had never played chess with him before. The corners of Sinclair’s lips curved upward.

"Sure."

Meanwhile, Stephen, still in the throes of discomfort: "..."

Could you two at least pretend to care about the patient’s feelings?

The butler couldn’t help but feel as though Mr. Luther and his wife were the hosts here, while he and his employer were merely guests.

Of course, no one paid any attention to their inner turmoil.

The two settled before the chessboard.

"Sweetheart, on the chessboard, there’s no such thing as husband and wife," Camilla blinked at Sinclair with a playful glint in her eyes before their chess match began.

"If I catch you going easy on me," she said with a teasing yet firm smile, "I won’t be happy."

Sinclair met her gaze, recognizing the quiet determination in her expression.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Understood."

They picked up their pieces, and the game commenced with deliberate precision.

To divert Stephen’s attention, the butler wheeled him closer to the chessboard, positioning him where he could observe the match.

Sinclair’s playing style mirrored his personality—sharp, calculated, and nearly flawless.

Every move was a carefully laid trap, every step a potential checkmate.

Camilla, in contrast, was the opposite.

She avoided unnecessary risks, never rushing ahead, yet striking with lethal precision when the moment called for it.

Like water wearing down stone, she countered force with subtlety, stillness with motion.

Back and forth they went, their skills so evenly matched that neither could gain the upper hand in the short term.

True enough, Stephen found himself increasingly absorbed by the intense duel unfolding before him.

Before long, half an hour had slipped by.

Camilla placed her final piece and broke the silence with a satisfied smile.

"It’s time to remove the needles. We’ll have to continue next time."

"Alright."

Sinclair’s pale fingers and the chess piece between them seemed to blend into one.

Camilla swiftly finished removing the needles from Stephen.

"Any sensations?

Or how does it feel?"

The sharp pain gradually faded as the needles were withdrawn, replaced by a dull, persistent swelling.

Stephen described the sensation truthfully.

His face was even paler than before, but his eyes shone with an unusual brightness.

For the first time in years, he could clearly feel the presence of his legs again.

"This was just the first session.

With more treatments, the effects will improve," Camilla said with a nod, carefully storing the needles away.

"I’ll prescribe two remedies—one for oral intake and another for external use."

The oral medicine required boiling, while the external one was for soaking his legs. Stephen nodded.

"Thank you for your trouble."

"No trouble at all." Camilla finished packing the needles and looked at Stephen.

"There’s something I’d like to ask, Mr. Mega.

I hope you can enlighten me."