The Luckiest Dumb Doctor

Chapter 56 Taste the Bitterness_1

A moment later, he couldn’t even lift his arms.

Brandon Brent was startled and immediately thought of Greg Jensen’s words, his lips trembling, “Quick… make a call.”

“Right, I’ll call an ambulance.”

Seeing his pale face, Little Wild quickly took out his phone, ready to call an ambulance.

But Brandon Brent angrily said, “Who the hell told you to call an ambulance, call Greg Jensen, hurry up!”

“Who is Greg Jensen?”

“You moron, can’t you just look it up in my phone?”

Scared out of his wits, Little Wild hastily found Greg Jensen’s number on his phone and dialed.

Greg Jensen was about to go to bed, saw the call from Brandon Brent, didn’t even think, and just hung up.

For someone as capricious and petty as Brandon Brent, if he didn’t taste the torment of a thousand ants gnawing at his heart, he wouldn’t completely submit.

Meanwhile, Brandon Brent, seeing Greg Jensen had hung up, quickly redialed.

But this time, Greg Jensen had turned off his phone.

“Damn it, Greg Jensen, I’m going to…”

Brandon Brent’s harsh words weren’t even out when he collapsed onto the bed in agony, his whole body desperately writhing. But against the itch attacking his brain, nothing was effective.

Brandon Brent felt like he had fallen into an anthill, ants crawling all over his body, and many were even burrowing into his flesh and biting wildly inside.

“All…”

Brandon Brent was in excruciating pain, cold sweat flowed like it was free, soaking the bedsheets in the blink of an eye.

After an indeterminable amount of time, that feeling finally started to fade.

Brandon Brent was like someone who had been pulled out from water, completely drenched, his face even paler without a hint of color.

He gasped for air, about to ask Little Wild for a towel, when his phone rang just at that moment.

“It’s a call from Greg Jensen.”

“Quick, help me answer it.”

Brandon Brent snatched the phone from Little Wild’s hand, anxious, “Greg Jensen, where are you?”

“Where I am is not important. What’s important is whether you still want to keep playing this game!”

Greg Jensen’s tone was extremely calm, as if discussing something trivial.

A chill rose in Brandon Brent’s heart, feeling as if he were in a cavern of ice, his entire body freezing.

If before he only suspected that the unbearable itching might be related to Greg Jensen,

now he was almost one hundred percent certain that the affliction that nearly drove him mad was Greg Jensen’s doing.

Only at this moment did he finally understand that he and Greg Jensen were simply not from the same world.

Such strange and unpredictable methods were beyond him, not just a spoiled rich second generation like him, but even his father Micah Brent, the Chief Inspector of Riverhaven County, didn’t have such ability.

A sudden fear gripped Brandon Brent’s heart as he suddenly remembered something.

Three months ago, Uncle Hall from Peach Blossom Village died tragically from a heart attack after a night of heavy drinking.

And on the day of Uncle Hall’s death, he had set fire to Greg Jensen’s house.

Brandon Brent had come across this case in his search for information on Greg Jensen.

At the time, he didn’t think much of it, but now it seemed Uncle Hall’s death was likely not unrelated to Greg Jensen.

If Greg Jensen could make him fall ill without a trace, he could just as silently kill someone.

Realizing this, Brandon Brent couldn’t help but shiver, he quickly said, “Mr. Jensen, I want to live, I don’t want to play anymore, I was wrong.”

Greg Jensen didn’t speak, and the phone line went quiet.

Cold sweat slid down Brandon Brent’s cheeks, but he didn’t dare to wipe it away.

He was like a defendant awaiting sentencing, waiting desperately and anxiously in his heart.

“Come to Peach Blossom Village to find me tomorrow morning, alone.”

Upon hearing these words, Brandon Brent finally breathed a sigh of relief, but as he was about to agree, he realized the call had already been disconnected.

Staring at the hung-up phone, a joy of having survived a disaster couldn’t help but show on his face.

He was grateful that he had contacted Greg Jensen right away, for the outcome otherwise was uncertain.

Had Greg decided not to bother with him, he might have had to live with that pain for the rest of his life, and might even have broken down and taken his own life after a few more times.

Recalling the excruciating pain that felt like ants gnawing at his heart, Brandon couldn’t help but shiver again.

“Get the car ready, I need to take a trip to Peach Blossom Village!”

The bodyguard, looking a bit puzzled, glanced at his watch and kindly reminded, “Young Master Brent, are you going now? It’s just past three, don’t you want to sleep a bit longer?”

“Sleep my ass, just do as you’re told, and cut the crap!”

“Yes, sir.”

Brandon Brent was no fool, in fact, quite the opposite.

He had been arrogant and wilful until now, without causing too much trouble, not just because of his father, the head of the patrol station, but because he himself was very shrewd.

After what had just happened, Brandon clearly understood that Greg Jensen was no ordinary person; he must secure a place at his side.

To win favor, sincerity was indispensable!

Rushing to Peach Blossom Village in the middle of the night to wait for Greg to wake up was standard practice. Even if he had to wait outside Greg’s house for the entire night, he was willing.

Over an hour later, Brandon Brent arrived at Peach Blossom Village by car.

However, he didn’t enter the village but waited at the entrance instead.

Until dawn, when the villagers had already gone out to work, he still sat in the car, watching the passersby outside.

The bodyguard couldn’t help but remind, “Young Master, it’s getting light. When will you go over?”

“No rush, just wait.”

“Wait for what?”

The bodyguard was puzzled; Brandon usually placed himself above all, and it was always others who waited for him. When had ever seen him wait for someone else?

He had rushed over in the middle of the night and had been waiting for several hours. Who was it that warranted such respect from Young Master Brent?

Just then, Brandon’s eyes lit up, and he said with a smile, “Here they come.”

The bodyguard looked outside, puzzled, but saw a woman in her thirties riding a tricycle towards them.

Seeing this, he was momentarily stunned. Had Young Master Brent’s tastes changed so quickly? Just last night, he was being intimate with a model, and now he’s taken a liking to this type of married woman?

As the bodyguard watched Lindsey Wolfe pass by, he couldn’t help nodding and saying, “Hmm, that woman is indeed not bad.”

Smack!

Brandon slapped the back of his head and cursed, “What the hell are you thinking? That’s Mr. Jensen’s aunt, do you want to be Mr. Jensen’s elder or what?

Even I have to humble myself before Mr. Jensen, what are you, daring to have designs on his aunt?”

Hearing this, the bodyguard felt a desire to cry but had no tears.

“Young Master Brent, that’s not what 1 meant.”

The bodyguard hurriedly explained himself, then looked up to see that Brandon had already gotten out of the car and started walking up the hill.

“Hey, Young Master Brent, wait for me!”

With the bodyguard’s support, Brandon climbed half up the hill in unsteady steps and arrived in front of a small courtyard.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door very carefully.

“Come in.”

Upon hearing the voice from inside, Brandon felt as if he had been granted amnesty, and ordered the bodyguard, “Wait here for me.”

After saying that, he put on a sycophantic smile and walked in lightly on tiptoes..