Given the distinguished identities of these two individuals, Hassan dared not lay hands on them for the time being. Instead, he locked them up in the Tiger Cage, waiting for orders from above.
At this place, Cheyenne did indeed encounter Old Bray.
Separated for only a day, she found him with a broken leg, lying on the ground covered in blood.
Mike was taking care of her nearby.
Mike, hearing footsteps, initially thought that bad people were coming again, and hurriedly hid in a corner out of fear.
However, when he saw that the visitor was Cheyenne, the little guy’s expression first showed joy, then sank into endless sorrow.
With Cheyenne and her husband captured as well, who else could possibly rescue them?
“Cheyenne, how could you…”
Seeing that Mike was alright, Cheyenne was somewhat consoled, but she soon remembered Grandpa Maxim.
Should she tell Mike about this?
Hesitating, she turned her head back to seek Kelvin’s opinion with her eyes. He shook his head.
This implied that she should not tell Mike yet, to prevent him from impulsively doing something that could cost him his life.
“I understand.”
What was urgent at the moment was Old Bray’s injury.
His leg was severely injured, and if not treated soon, it would be completely ruined.
Regrettably, these people had intentionally separated them. Cheyenne and Kelvin were locked up across from Old Bray in the opposite Tiger Cage.
Separated by iron bars, the four of them looked at each other from a distance.
Even now, wanting to treat Old Bray, she was powerless and could only pin her hopes on Mike.
“Mike, listen, I need your help. Soon I will wrap a silver needle in a stone and throw it in front of you.”
“Take the needle, and follow my instructions to treat Old Bray.”
Upon hearing this, Mike’s pupils dilated with anxiety, and he stammered, “Me? You mean me?”
“I can’t, I haven’t learned medicine. At most, I’ve used a sewing needle at home to mend clothes.”
And even his sewing was quite ugly…
“It’s okay, just think of Old Bray as a piece of clothing, and do as I say. You’ll be fine.”
“This… okay, alright.”
Having no other choice, Mike gritted his teeth and agreed.
A sound of fabric tearing echoed in the empty space-it was Cheyenne tearing off the white camisole she wore underneath.
Wrapping the silver needles and stone she carried, she precisely threw it through the gap between two iron bars, landing near Mike’s feet.
“Open it, take out the silver needle, and grasp it between your thumb and index finger.”
“The first needle should be placed a little to the left of Old Bray’s knee, about the width of three fingers.”
At this, Mike couldn’t help but ask.
“Sister, how wide is three fingers?”
“You have small hands, so let’s say four fingers. Just place your palm sideways to measure.”
“Yes.”
Following that were the second needle, the third needle… Throughout the process, Cheyenne spoke while closely watching his actions.
Fortunately, Mike was smart and could tell where to insert the needles just by listening to her.
There were slight deviations, but none were serious.
“Very good, the bleeding has stopped. Let’s wait for Old Bray to wake up before we say more.”
Following her instructions, Mike pulled out the needles one by one-a truly exhausting task, indeed.
It looked simple just to insert the needles, but the actual execution revealed its difficulty.
He was genuinely afraid that a slight error could worsen Old Bray’s condition.
“Cheyenne, is this how all doctors in Chulae treat their patients? Does this really work?”
Without taking medicine or receiving an injection, can a patient really recover?
The mysteries of traditional medicine are not something they could understand, and moreover, he was just a child; even if she explained, he might not comprehend.
“If you don’t believe it, you can ask Old Bray how he feels when he wakes up,” said one confidently.
“After we get out, Mike, if you want to learn medicine, I can teach you,” another offered.
Mike remembered how he had just been treating and saving people, his hands still trembling.
“No, thanks, Cheyenne, I’m more interested in making money,” Mike replied.
Hearing this, Cheyenne felt pained that he had already suffered so much at such a young age.
“Alright, if you want to make money, then learn from your Uncle Foley; he’s a successful swindler,” she suggested.
Kelvin couldn’t accept this characterization.
“What do you mean I’m a successful swindler? Didn’t you see on my Wikipedia page that I’m described as a successful entrepreneur?” he protested.
Cheyenne rolled her eyes and argued, “Even if you are an entrepreneur, you’re still a businessman, which makes you a swindler!”
Unable to argue with her, Kelvin could only sigh and concede.
“Alright, as long as my wife is happy, whatever you say is right.”
They were locked up here, unable to even seek information about Omari, let alone ensure their own safety. All they could do was watch and wait, finding joy amidst the suffering.
Elsewhere, Hassan was reporting the situation to his superior on the phone.
“Sir, we’ve captured not only Old Bray but also the heirs of the Edwards family, Cheyenne, and the wealthiest man, Kelvin.”
“What should we do now? Should we kill them to silence them, or extort them first?”
Their combined net worth was so immense, it was like stumbling upon a treasury.
A magnetic laugh came through the phone, the man sounding very young.
“In that case… don’t touch those two for now, I still have big plans for them.”
“Send this message to old Mr. Foley: I want a billion dollars within three days, or else I’ll chop off his beloved grandson’s arm.”
“Understood,” replied Hassan with the Foley family.
In the bright dining room of the Foley mansion, it was dinner time.
“Let the kitchen prepare a chicken mushroom soup; Cheyenne can have it when she gets off work,” someone requested.
As soon as these words were spoken, a childish voice answered, “Great-grandpa, did you forget? Mom and dad went on a business trip together; the soup is only for me.”
Indeed, he had forgotten that point, still subconsciously thinking the young couple was on their way home from work.
Looking at the half-empty seats, old Mr. Foley felt somewhat uncomfortable.
He couldn’t help but mutter, “Our family is sparse, not lively at all.”
He thought he should seize the moment and encourage his grandson and daughter-in-law to have more children.
Just as Cheyenne was mentioned, Channing arrived.
His pace was fast and his expression was very serious this time.
“Channing, what brings you here all of a sudden? There’s no dinner prepared, but maybe we can have a simple meal together?” old Mr. Foley greeted him warmly, instructing the servant to prepare a new set of cutlery.
“No need, I’m here to discuss something important,” Channing replied.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Foley.
“You’ll see in a moment.”