Enna Clark looked at the wound on his hand, and for some reason, she was reminded of the bright red bloodstain left on the tiles after he left, and the furious words he shouted back then.

She pressed her lips together, putting away the facade of lightheartedness, and after a moment of silence said, "Wait for me a moment, I’ll get the medicine box."

Just as she took a step, her wrist was suddenly grabbed.

Baron Lawrence’s dark eyes were like a frozen expanse, his thin lips barely moving, "Aren’t you only concerned about other men? I don’t have heart disease; I don’t need your care!"

It sounded just like a middle school argument.

Enna Clark didn’t know whether to be angry or to laugh, she pried his hand open and said, "Alright, wait for me a moment. Whatever it is, we can talk when I get back."

She planned to treat his wound first, then they would talk calmly.

Otherwise, knowing Baron’s temperament, any conversation right now would ignite like dynamite. Only a fool would face him head-on at this moment, given his domineering nature, which would definitely drive her mad. Better to let him calm down first, and once his wounds were treated, they could discuss Lyle Westbrook’s matter.

Having made up her mind, Enna quickly found the medicine box the servant had brought out yesterday. Back in the living room, she pressed the still-standing man to sit down. She pulled over his left hand, and took out the disinfectant, saying, "This will corrode the scabbing; it will hurt a bit. But you didn’t use disinfectant alcohol yesterday; there are bacteria on the scabs, and we must remove them, disinfect the wound again to prevent infection."

Her hands were soft, and a warm temperature.

Even though Baron’s heart was brewing a storm, facing her fair, gentle profile, he couldn’t let it out.

His chest felt tight, he furrowed his brow, pursed his lips, neither speaking nor acknowledging her.

Seeing him willing to cooperate, Enna was already relieved, not hoping that he would be accommodating enough to chat amiably with her.

Fearing he might suddenly change his mood again, she quickly found the disinfectant, steeled her heart, and poured it on.

The disinfectant was somewhat like chemical sulfuric acid; when poured onto the scabbed wound, it instantly made a small sizzling sound. Then, the scabbed area began to bubble, gradually peeling away, revealing the scraped skin beneath.

Watching it made Enna feel pain.

Unconsciously, she lifted her head, frowned, and comforted, "It might hurt a bit, but bear with it, it’ll be over soon."

Baron Lawrence didn’t even regard such a small wound.

His eyes were only focused on her lowering her head, carefully tending to his wound, soothing him, while blowing on the wound as if that would ease the pain from the disinfectant.

He always thought that blowing on wounds to alleviate pain, as seen on TV, was silly, because there was no scientific basis that it actually reduced pain, it was purely psychological.

But now, he suddenly felt that psychological effects were quite similar to anesthetics, for instance now, even if someone cut him, he probably wouldn’t even frown.

The disinfectant corroded quickly, and the scabs on his wound fell off in no time, revealing the injured area beneath.

Enna Clark checked it, and it was much better than she expected.

She couldn’t tell if his physical condition was just too good or if the hospital walls were too weak; even with such force, he didn’t end up with a fractured bone.