The club's racetrack was packed with thousands of spectators watching the races. Horse racing has always been a favorite pastime of the wealthy, both locally and internationally, with betting being the most talked-about aspect of the sport. Lauren walked arm-in-arm with Andrew to the premium viewing deck, with Francesca close behind. This exclusive area was reserved for lifetime club members, and everyone seated there was either wealthy or influential. In the center of the deck, Jayrodale's mayor, Mark Thatcher, sat surrounded by his staff, intently watching the races below. It was common knowledge that while the mayor had many interests, horse racing was his true passion. "Mr. Thatcher, what a pleasure to see you here!" Lauren stepped forward to greet him. Mark adjusted his glasses and smiled. "Ah, Lauren! How's Mr. Rhodes Senior doing these days?" "Thank you for asking, Mr. Thatcher. Grandpa's doing quite well!" Mark nodded, but his expression changed to surprise whe
After they sat down in a corner, Francesca quickly whispered, "Lauren, that sneaky Bernard is clearly trying to drive a wedge between Mr. Thatcher and your family." Lauren shrugged. "Let him try. He's a nobody. If not for Mr. Thatcher, I would've slapped him for talking about Andrew like that." Francesca turned to Andrew with disgust. "This is all because of you! Thanks to you, Mr. Thatcher probably doesn't think highly of Lauren anymore!" "Is Mr. Thatcher's approval really that important?" Andrew frowned. Francesca sneered. "Are you actually this clueless, or are you just pretending? He's the mayor of Jayrodale! Haven't you noticed all those people waiting with expensive gifts just to curry his favors? One word from him can make or break someone's fortune in this town." Lauren intervened, "Fran, stop it. The Rhodes family isn't going to lose a connection over someone like Bernard." "If maintaining good relations with Mr. Thatcher is so important, I might have an idea,
Lauren clapped her hands excitedly. "Dr. Lloyd, you're amazing! Number Seven actually won!" Her joyful laughter caused Harvey, Bernard, and their group's faces to darken. However, Mark maintained his composure and smiled. "Don't be discouraged, everyone. Such is the thrill of horse racing—you never know who the dark horse will be until the very end!" The mayor's words prompted immediate agreement from the crowd. "Well said, Mr. Thatcher!" "Absolutely, Mr. Thatcher! Anyone could be the dark horse!" "Your insights are truly remarkable!" "Let's get ready for the next round. The game isn't over yet! Stick with Mr. Thatcher, and we'll be in the winner's circle!" For the next race, Mark confidently selected Number Five. Lauren turned to Andrew and asked, "Dr. Lloyd, which horse should we choose?" "Let's go with Number One," Andrew replied casually. Bernard could not resist a sarcastic comment. "Andrew, are you deliberately going against Mr. Thatcher's picks? Can't you
Lauren covered her mouth to suppress a laugh, suddenly realizing that these so-called Jayrodale elites were not much different from the social climbers they claimed to mock. "Andrew, I challenge you on behalf of Mr. Thatcher!" Harvey declared. "Don't get cocky. Your first two wins were just beginner's luck. Fortune won't keep favoring a fool forever!" Bernard chimed in, "Well said! Those two wins were nothing but dumb luck. No one in Jayrodale can match Mr. Thatcher at horse racing, especially not some junior doctor!" Mark waved them off with a chuckle. "Come now, we're not sore losers. Dr. Lloyd, if you can win this one too, you'll definitely earn my respect!" "If we're playing by the same rules, Mr. Thatcher, then I won't lose," Andrew replied with a calm smile. The crowd erupted immediately. "Such arrogance!" "This young man doesn't know his place!" "How dare he speak to Mr. Thatcher like that!" Francesca's heart was racing. She could not believe Andrew dared to sp
Horse Number Two was indeed leading, maintaining its pace well past the halfway point and showing no signs of tiredness. Meanwhile, Andrew's Number Four stayed close behind but remained trailing by a good meter's length. "There's no point watching any longer—the winner is clear!" Harvey turned to Mark with a smile. "Mr. Thatcher has led us to victory, truly showing the spirit of a leader!" Bernard exclaimed admiringly. Mark felt deeply satisfied as his fortunes turned around. He smiled smugly at Andrew and asked, "Well, what do you say now?" Andrew shifted his gaze from the track and replied calmly, "You're right. The winner is clear." Mark laughed heartily. "It's great that you know when to admit defeat. There's hope for you yet!" However, Andrew shook his head and said, "I think there's a misunderstanding, Mr. Thatcher. I meant our victory and Number Two's defeat." Before Mark could respond, Bernard shouted in disbelief, "How is Number Four moving so fast?" Mark's hea
Andrew remained calm, explaining, "Since you're curious, let me break it down for you in simpler terms. For the first race, everyone underestimated the mixed-breed horse because of its lower charging speed than purebreds. Any casual racing fan would know that. However, Mr. Thatcher might have overlooked that while mixed breeds lack explosive power, they excel in endurance, which is their key advantage." He waved his hand, gesturing toward the racetrack as he continued, "This club's track is nearly 50 meters longer than standard tracks. That extra distance allowed the mixed breed to showcase its superior stamina, ultimately overtaking the faster but less enduring horses, which decided the race." Mark contemplated this before asking, "I see. What about the second race?" Andrew replied, "That was even more straightforward. Your chosen horse had a hidden injury in its left front hoof, causing it to stumble and fall off the track." Harvey scoffed. "That sounds like cheating. How
A chubby tycoon laughed and exclaimed, "I get it now! It's just like with men and women—even the most powerful man can be brought to his knees by a woman's charm!" Another man chimed in. "Exactly! As they say, between a woman's legs lies the path to paradise—apparently, the same applies to horses!" Their remarks left Christina, Lauren, and the other women blushing. The rest of the crowd exchanged awkward glances. The comparison made sense, but it felt a bit off somehow. After a brief pause, Mark sighed and said, "Alright, I accept this defeat completely. Andrew Lloyd of Jayrodale General Hospital. I'll remember you. You're truly a remarkable young man!" Andrew's expression remained unchanged despite Mark's high praise, while Bernard and Harvey could not hide their displeasure. Harvey, especially, was glaring at Andrew. He could not stand how this guy, wherever he went, seemed to steal all the attention. This kind of praise was supposed to be his alone, not for a nobody like
Dexter sneered at Andrew. "You've got some nerve. Just because you won a few races and caught Mr. Thatcher's attention, you think you can make up stories about his health to get him to depend on you?" Harvey added with a smirk, "That's pretty low, Andrew. Trying to climb the social ladder by tricking Mr. Thatcher is honestly quite naive." "I'd explain it to you, but honestly, with you, the lights are on, but nobody's home," Andrew replied calmly. "Is he insulting us with some fancy words?" Dexter asked Harvey in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" Harvey scoffed. "Just meaningless rambling. Let's go!" As Dexter passed Andrew, he strutted arrogantly and said, "Hey, freeloader, I do have my lights on, thank you very much! My electricity bill is proof!" "Dexter, let's go!" Harvey called out, red-faced with embarrassment. Having such an uncultured sidekick was truly embarrassing. Lauren stifled a laugh. "Dr. Lloyd, you should know that while Dexter's family is wealthy
The crowd could not help but wonder if Andrew was just that hurried to die, "Dragon Claw Strike!" With a low, lethal growl, Ellis struck, his eyes full of murder. His hands curled into claws, shooting straight for Andrew's chest and eyes, going for nothing less than a kill shot right from the start. However, Andrew's expression did not change. He stepped back once, then again, calm and fluid. It looked casual, but every move was calculated—just enough to slip right past Ellis's deadly thrusts. "Not bad. That's some decent footwork," Ellis sneered, his tone mocking even as he circled again. Then, his wiry frame lunged low, sweeping toward Andrew with a lightning-fast kick. Andrew's voice remained quiet and steady. "Dragon Claw Strike and Golden Cicada Stance are elite techniques from Silverthorn Monastery. Too bad you only learned the shell, not the substance." He stopped moving. Like a rock in a river, his stance suddenly locked in place. Ellis's sweeping legs, fast as
The bald man, Ellis, was not some no-name street thug—he was well-known in Blumedale. Among Mosby's apprentices, he was one of the rare few with zero talent in medicine but exceptional prowess in martial arts. Insiders knew the truth—Mosby had not taken Ellis in to pass on his medical legacy or help heal the sick. He wanted muscle, someone who could handle the dirty work behind closed doors. The whispers began almost instantly among the growing crowd. "This is bad. That's Mosby's third apprentice—trained under the monks at Silverthorn Monastery. I heard he's so powerful he can crack stone with his bare hands." Another chimed in, "Genesis Dispensary isn't the kind of place you just stroll into looking for trouble. That young guy's finished." "Well… I don't know. Judging from what I saw earlier, the guy's no amateur either." "Amateur? My ass. Ellis doesn't hold back. People have died under his fists before. That punk's either going to be crippled or dead in minutes..." More a
Barely two minutes had passed, but every single one of Genesis Dispensary's enforcers lay sprawled on the ground—some unconscious, some writhing in pain, and some not even moving. Janice clutched the edge of her sleeve, her face pale as a sheet. She stared at Andrew in shock, as if not recognizing this man. The Andrew she knew was gentle, refined, eloquent—someone who had won her grandfather's respect the moment they met, a miracle doctor with endless skill. However, the Andrew standing before her now was the complete opposite—ruthless, cold-blooded, and surrounded by a sea of blood from the beatings he had just handed out. Old Hayface's legs trembled as he stared at Andrew like he had seen a ghost, thinking this was beyond insane. How could some young punk wipe out all of Genesis Dispensary's muscle like it was nothing? He shook his head furiously in denial. "Andrew, you've messed up big time—real big. Mr. Lake is on his way and—" Before he could finish, Andrew delivered t
The red Ferrari screeched to a stop in front of the famous Genesis Dispensary like a streak of lightning. The dramatic entrance instantly caught the attention of pedestrians walking by. "Who the hell do you think you are? Driving that flashy piece of crap like you own the place? Move it before we lock your ass in!" Two burly security thugs stationed at the entrance of Genesis Dispensary stomped over, cursing as they approached. Janice jumped out of the car in a panic and rushed to explain, "I'm sorry, sirs, really sorry! We'll leave right now, please don't—" However, before she could even finish her sentence, Andrew stepped forward and slapped both men across the face. Each blow landed with a crack, and neither man had time to react before their heads slammed into the pavement, completely unconscious. Janice stood frozen, wondering if Andrew had always had such an explosive temper. How had she never seen this side of him before? "You bastard! You think you can hit our guy
Ronan's Oak Apothecary had built a modest but respected reputation in Blumedale, so having him gather the herbs was a huge time-saver for Andrew. However, the moment Andrew stepped into the shop, Janice Bates came running toward him in tears. "Andrew! My grandpa… he got hurt! Someone beat him up!" she cried, sobbing uncontrollably. Andrew's brows furrowed. "Janice, stop crying for now. Take me to him." In the back room, Ronan was lying on a bed, clearly injured. Two red handprints burned across his cheeks, and his forehead was bruised and bleeding as if someone had shoved him hard against something. "Mr. Lloyd… you came," Ronan said weakly, trying to sit up. "Forgive me, I've failed you." Andrew quickly motioned for him to stop talking. "Don't waste your breath. Let's get you patched up first." After checking him over, Andrew was relieved to find that Ronan had only suffered surface wounds and a badly twisted waist. He worked swiftly, massaging the injured muscles and ap
The awkward silence lasted for almost half an hour. Eventually, Aspen regained enough strength in her legs to move again. Without a word and her face icy cold, she reached for the car door, desperate to leave. Andrew quickly grabbed her wrist and said, "I'll drive you home so you can change clothes. Especially your skirt and stockings—they're completely soaked." Aspen immediately blushed crimson, embarrassment flooding up her neck and across her cheeks. She ground her teeth angrily and snapped, "No need!" Andrew ignored her protests completely, starting the Ferrari and driving straight back to The Sovereign Residences. Neither said a word during the entire drive. Andrew genuinely did not know what to say. Everything had been perfectly normal until he suddenly crossed the line with Aspen. It was just like those old movies, where the wealthy guy ended up sleeping with his favorite maid. Technically, Andrew had not done anything wrong; Aspen was his slave, after all. Nonethe
Andrew shook his head slowly and said, "No, you're not like some middle-aged lunatic, and you're definitely not trash or a hooker. You look like a cute little bunny rabbit, just begging to be eaten up. You forced my hand, Aspen!" As soon as he finished speaking, Aspen's eyes widened in sudden panic, realizing what was about to happen. She struggled fiercely, desperate to escape Andrew's grasp. Her voice trembled with tears as she pleaded, "No, no, no! Andrew—Mr. Lloyd—I'm sorry, I admit it, I was wrong! I swear, I won't do it again, please don't do this—please, no!" Her frantic protests ended abruptly with a soft, electric whimper as Andrew silenced her, pressing his mouth firmly onto hers. What followed was a hungry, unstoppable kiss, intense and overwhelming. Aspen's clear eyes widened, her expression first filled with shame and anger, then disbelief, and finally melting into a dazed, dreamy blankness. Their rapid breathing mingled in the confined space of the Ferrari, th
Andrew let out a cold laugh as he stared at the trembling Aspen right in front of him. "What am I doing? What do you think I'm doing? When you were trying to suppress Christina and Davon earlier, you used my presence to scare them off. Don't tell me you forgot that?" Aspen flushed, both embarrassed and angry. "I didn't forget! But what I said—was any of it wrong?" Andrew snorted. "No, it wasn't wrong. But you did get one thing messed up: your grudge with Christina has nothing to do with me, so don't drag me into it just to make yourself look good. You used your own boss as a pawn. That takes some guts, Aspen." Aspen instantly felt a chill. She shrank back and begged, "I-I-I… I won't do it again, okay? Andrew, just let me down first. My butt's right up against the window, and if someone walks by and sees this, how the hell am I supposed to live that down?" The corner of Andrew's lips curved into a teasing grin. "Isn't that perfect? You're my little secretary. This? This is very
Someone joked loudly, "But we get it… I mean, with a secretary like that, why would you even look at anyone else?" The others burst into raucous laughter, not bothering to hide it even in front of Aspen's increasingly dark expression. "Exactly!" another chimed in. "Mr. Lloyd is living the dream. Damn, I look at my office girl and suddenly feel dead inside!" "Mr. Lloyd's not just talented—he's got the best of both worlds. That little secretary of his is a top-tier beauty!" A bespectacled executive chuckled crudely and added, "Mr. Lloyd, let me give you a piece of advice: when there's work, let the secretary handle it; when there's no work, handle the secretary! That line fits you perfectly!" The entire room erupted in laughter as Aspen's face flushed deep red, her cheeks burning. Furious, she shot Andrew a murderous glare, then stormed out of the room in her heels without a word. Andrew, looking utterly unbothered, leisurely followed behind. He even muttered to himself, "Han