Seeing this, Bruce was instantly furious. "Joanna," he said, "I think you really need to be taught a lesson." He blocked her path, forcing her back onto the bed. "I don't want to be angry with you. Why do you always challenge my limits?"

Joanna instinctively stepped back as Bruce loomed over her. "What do you want? Get up!" he demanded. His expression was grim. He pushed her onto the bed. This damn woman—she needed to be taught a lesson!

"What are you doing?" Joanna cried, losing her balance and sinking into the mattress. Fear flickered in her eyes.

Bruce climbed onto the bed, his expression dark. He casually loosened his tie. Joanna panicked, scrambling away. "Bruce, don't touch me! You said you wouldn't force me again!"

"I did!" he retorted. "But only if you don't piss me off!"

"I'm furious now," he said, his weight pressing down on her. "You know the consequences."

"Ah Don't," Joanna pleaded, struggling in fear, but he restrained her, her body aching, powerless to resist. He had tolerated her long enough. He gave her little chance to resist before

"Ah!" Joanna gasped, breaking out in a cold sweat. He liked seeing her submit; he showed no mercy.

An hour later, Joanna lost consciousness, exhausted and in pain. She lay motionless, a soulless doll.

By eight o'clock, Bruce awoke before her. Joanna remained unconscious. He lit a cigarette, glancing at her. Her neck was bruised, her hair scattered on the pillow, revealing her delicate jawline. He blew out a plume of smoke, satisfied, and brushed the hair from her face.

Chapter 204

Reflecting on the previous night, he still felt unsatisfied. The feeling was addictive. If she weren't asleep, he would have

He checked his watch. It was almost 8:30. He had an important meeting and couldn't miss it. He reluctantly left the warm bed. Ten minutes later, he dressed, finding Joanna still soundly asleep. It was unusual; she seemed exceptionally tired. He kissed her forehead, preparing to leave. Sᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

His hand paused. Her forehead felt hot. Shocked, he checked again: she had a high fever. "Why do you have a fever? Joanna! Joanna!"

Joanna stirred, opening her eyes briefly before closing them weakly. Days of hardship and overwork had weakened her immunity, leading to the fever. A hospital visit was unnecessary; the family doctor would suffice.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Bruce immediately called his private doctor. "Hello, Mr. Everett. What's the matter?"

"Come to Reagan No. 8 Residence immediately with fever medication!"

"Roger that!" The doctor responded, rushing to the residence.

Bruce then called Andy. "Hey, Andy!"

"Mr. Everett, what can I do for you?"

"Cancel today's meetings."

"Alright!" Andy hesitated but complied. He felt helpless; the meetings were crucial, involving high-level executives and a major foreign tycoon. Everything was canceled.

Twenty minutes later, the family doctor arrived. "Mr. Everett, do you have a fever?" he asked respectfully.

Bruce, in silk pajamas, smoking on the sofa, replied without looking up, "No, the patient is in the room."

"Oh, okay!"

The doctor entered, seeing a woman in bed—not Roxanne. He didn't inquire further, immediately checking her condition. Recognizing Joanna, he felt a headache. The media reports weren't entirely fabricated; Mr. Everett and his ex-wife were indeed inseparable.

He took her temperature: 39.5 degrees Celsius. "Her fever is very high! Two shots to reduce it are best; relying on her immunity will take at least a week." He briefly explained the antibiotic options.

"Do it," Bruce said coldly. Joanna's injuries further compromised her immune system.

This revised version improves grammar, punctuation, and flow, making the narrative clearer and more impactful. It removes the excessive use of exclamation points and streamlines the dialogue. The promotional link remains, although its integration into the narrative could be improved.