Chapter 479 Male Models
I stood still, my thoughts racing. So, it wasn’t just my imagination after all?
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It made sense now why Wallace hadn’t said anything earlier. His insistence on closing the door suddenly felt deliberate–he must’ve wanted to ensure no one outside could overhear.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.
“There are signs of a possible miscarriage,” he replied, his tone measured. “She smells of mugwort, which likely means she’s been using herbal remedies and might even be taking progesterone shots in secret.”
His explanation unraveled Alisa’s strange behavior. She’d been adamant about her baby’s health, but her actions hinted at a deeper anxiety.
It seemed as though she cared about the child far more than Luke did.
Even so, that was her concern, not mine. People carry their secrets like fragile glass, and it’s not my place to shatter them without cause.
“Thank you, Dr. Mervin,” I said, my words sincere.
“She keeps saying the baby’s fine, but I worry she might overlook the risks. I thought you should know, so her family can watch over her,” he added, his gaze steady.
“I’ll make sure of it,” I promised.
Wallace opened his medical kit and began mixing medications for Whitney. His hands moved with precision as he spoke. “Ms. Sander, your fever is treatable. But emotional health is just as important, and that’s something you’ll need to address yourself–or with the right therapist.”
At that, a name surfaced in my mind–Dr. Zimmer–he’d helped me once before, and I trusted him.
He was thorough and compassionate, the kind of person who could guide anyone through a storm.
“Whitney,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I know an incredible therapist. He’s helped a lot of people, and I think he could help you too. But if you don’t feel ready, just forget I mentioned it.”
Whitney glanced up, a flicker of humor softening her face.
“No, it’s okay. Moving forward is important. But, sis… is he good–looking?”
“What?” I blinked, caught completely off guard. That wasn’t the kind of response I expected from her.
It sounded more like something Zoey would say.
She looked toward Wallace, who was focused on his work, and added, “A good–looking therapist might make therapy a bit easier, don’t you think?”
I considered her words, then shrugged.
“You know what? You’ve got a point. Dr. Zimmer is good–looking, and he’s single. Oh, and I read somewhere that staring at attractive men’s muscles can add four or five years to your life!”
Whitney’s faint smile was enough to lighten the room. Whatever struggles she faced, keeping her spirits
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Wallace held a syringe as he was pushing out the air bubbles, and spoke without looking up. “Mrs. Bolton, that sort of information isn’t rooted in science. I’d suggest avoiding sources like that.”
His voice was calm, yet there was something about his tone that made me picture him turning that syringe on me the next moment.
The completely unfazed Whitney added with a hint of laughter, “Even if it doesn’t extend your life, it could still improve your taste in aesthetics. And that’s worth something, isn’t it?”
Whitney’s sudden interest took me by surprise, but I didn’t let it show. I nodded, eager to keep her engaged. “Exactly! A cheerful mind and a healthy body–that’s the secret to everything. Zoey’s got a massive stash of this kind of content. I’ll have her send you a file later.”
I paused, an idea lighting up my face. “And when Carter gets back, I’ll ask him to invite some handsome, single guys over. Who knows? Having them around might be just the thing to lift your spirits.”
“Mrs. Bolton.”
The unexpected voice made me jump. Wallace had appeared behind me, his tone calm but direct, cutting through my chatter like a blade. I turned to face him, feeling a little caught off guard. “Oh, Dr. Mervin,” I said, trying to regain composure. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re standing in my way,” he replied, his face as unreadable as ever.
Something about his demeanor always gave me the oddest feeling, like he’d rather stick the needle in me than the patient. It was unnerving.
I stepped aside without hesitation, letting him move closer to Whitney. He leaned toward her, his voice dropping to a soothing murmur. “This might sting a little. Try to hold still.”
Whitney’s hands rested limply on her lap, their pale, thin appearance making them seem fragile. Her veins were faint and hard to spot, while the needle Wallace held gleamed with an unsettling sharpness.
He tapped her hand a few times and massaged it gently, likely searching for the best angle.
I noticed Whitney flinch slightly, her body tensing. The sight of the needle must have unsettled her.
Grabbing my phone, I decided to divert her attention. “Whitney, check this out. Zoey sent me this video yesterday. It’s about a guy who transforms into an eight–pack heartthrob. His abs are unreal.”
Whitney’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Sure. Let me see.”
I quickly opened the video and held the screen toward her. The clip began with a man half–hidden in shadow, dressed in a black leather jacket. As the music hit its stride, the camera shifted, revealing his chiseled abs. The lighting and filters gave him an almost otherworldly appeal.
“Isn’t he incredible?” I asked.
Whitney’s gaze flicked to Wallace, who was still focused on her hand. “Yeah, not bad.”
Catching her glance, I smirked. “Why are you looking at Dr. Mervin? He’s tall and lean, sure, but he’s more of the intellectual type–not exactly a gym enthusiast with bulging muscles.”
Whitney returned her attention to the phone, her smile lingering.
“I figured as much. Send me that video, sis. I want to check out more of his stuff later.”
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“Of course! I’ve got plenty. Let me find a few gems for you.”
As Wallace prepared to insert the needle, I scrolled to another video, ready to distract her again.
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“This one’s even bolder. Look at this comment: ‘Where’s your shame? Where’s your dignity? And most importantly, where’s the address?‘ Can you believe someone actually tagged a male model club in response?” Whitney turned to me suddenly, her curiosity evident. “Sis, have you ever been to one of those clubs?”
I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. Then, putting on a confident face, I nodded.
It was for business, and I wanted to get back to Luke quickly, so I only had a few drinks. I didn’t even touch the model’s hands.
“Of course. I know a high–end place. If you’re interested, once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you there. You can pick eight or ten guys–whatever makes you happy.”
Whitney’s curiosity seemed endless as she asked again, “So, what exactly can they do?”
I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts before responding. “As long as the price is right, they can do pretty much anything. Drink, sing, play games… whatever you want,” I replied, trying to sound knowledgeable, as if I had some experience in this.
Whitney nodded slowly, processing the information. “What about staying the night?”
I let out a surprised laugh, nearly choking on my breath.
“Pfft! No, no. You’re too young to be thinking about that.” I paused, trying to sound more serious. “Don’t even think about ordering takeout like that–it’s not clean.”
Then, noticing the unfamiliar presence in the room, I leaned closer to Whitney and whispered, “But, if you’re interested, I can find someone … trustworthy.”
Just as I finished, the door creaked open, and Carter walked in. His sudden appearance startled me. “How’s Whitney today?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
A wave of guilt washed over me, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.
“She’s… doing much better,” I said, avoiding his gaze.
After Wallace had finished administering the injection, he stood up and for the first time, broke his silence. “Mr. Bolton, as your wife is pregnant, I suggest that it’s better to be cautious about things.”
Carter frowned with confusion, “Is there something wrong with the baby?”
“No, Mr. Bolton, the baby is perfectly healthy,” Wallace answered without a hint of emotion. “But for Mrs. Bolton’s mental health, it’s best to avoid visiting male model clubs during pregnancy.”
Carter turned his attention to me, his voice softening. “What male models?”
I quickly cut in, “Wait, Carl, let me explain.”
Wallace continued, his tone unchanged, “Also, watching videos of men’s abs too often can speed up blood circulation. If it gets too intense, it could cause contractions, which could be risky.”
Carter took a few slow steps toward me, his expression shifting. “You’re watching naked model videos?”
