Resurrecting the Genius Within

Resurrecting the Genius Within 

Chapter 477 Acupuncture Treatment 

Isabelle leaned back slightly, giving him a warning glance. 

George stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on Isabelle, feeling a blend of embarrassment and guilt, his lips pressed firmly shut. 

Finished 

Isabelle, neither distant nor indifferent, remarked, “Seems like you have a hard time controlling yourself around me, Mr. Harris. Need a hand with that?” 

George genuinely feared that if Isabelle poked him a few times, he’d end up looking lopsided. It wouldn’t just be embarrassing to be in front of her. Yves would also tease him mercilessly for days. 

To prevent such an outcome… 

So, following the last time when Isabelle asked him in the shanty house, “Do you like it?” George replied with a hesitant “I couldn’t see clearly,” he once again wasn’t entirely honest. “Looks like you’ve got something dirty on your face.” 

Isabelle asked, “Mr. Harris, are you planning to clean it off with your mouth?” 

Not very smooth. 

George, feeling helpless, could only say, “You carry on.” 

Isabelle gave him a disapproving look before continuing with the acupuncture session. 

George maintained his composure. 

Perhaps sensing his cooperation, Isabelle decided not to press further and instead asked, “What’s been bothering you at night lately?” 

As Isabelle posed her question, George felt a surge of relief. He understood that she had noticed his insomnia, hence her choice of acupuncture. This realisation. lifted his spirits instantly. 

“I’ve had something on my mind, but it hasn’t been the cause of my insomnia,” George replied. 

Raising an eyebrow, Isabelle asked, “Then why did you stay up late?” 

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George chuckled softly but didn’t respond. 

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Confused, Isabelle looked at him again and heard him admit, “I couldn’t sleep because I was admiring you for too long.” 

Isabelle was taken aback. 

George clarified, “I was looking at your photo.” 

That night, George found himself engrossed in Isabelle’s photo on his phone, unable to tear his gaze away for a few days. 

George, usually a creature of habit, couldn’t bring himself to sleep. 

Raising an eyebrow, Isabelle provocatively asked, “Mr. Harris, did you mess with my picture?” 

George was used to Isabelle’s bold remarks, but they still caught him off guard. He replied calmly, “Isabelle, your skills in alternative medicine are unparalleled. I’m sure you’d notice if I did anything to it.” 

The two bantered back and forth, their words sharp, but the atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed. 

Out of the blue, the doorknob received a forceful twist from outside. Realising the door’s lock, the person on the other side began hammering on it. 

“Sweetheart? Is George in your room?” Yves asked, his patience wearing thin. With no response forthcoming, his restraint slipped, and he began pounding on the door. 

Yves’s voice turned threatening, his face mirroring the intensity as he flashed a gun. “George! Get out here now.” 

His relentless pounding made it seem like the door might give in, spreading fear and panic among those nearby. His threats grew increasingly dire. 

Jim rushed over at the noise, but he couldn’t control Yves, nor did he try too hard. He simply hoped Yves wouldn’t cause harm. 

Yves breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, and spoke to Isabelle in ant unexpectedly composed tone. “Sweetheart, if you don’t open this door, I’ll have to break it down.” 

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But the threat in his tone was clear. 

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Still facing silence, Yves grew impatient and signalled for his men to break down the door. 

As the door swung open with a kick, Isabelle, her expression unreadable, quipped to Yves, “You’re causing quite a stir. Don’t need those legs anymore, huh?” 

Yves manoeuvred 

manoeuvred past the figure obstructing his path and asked, “Is George here?” 

es casually against the door frame, he advanced, dragging his wounded leg. 

Before he could complete his inquiry, George emerged from the room. He was in the process of donning a coat as he walked, and once it was on, he adjusted the buttons on his shirt collar. 

George inquired nonchalantly, “Yves, do you need something from me?” 

Despite George’s polite and somewhat aloof tone, Yves perceived it as a challenge almost instinctively. 

Seeing the tension, Jim shook his head, feeling like he was on a battlefield. 

Yves’s demeanour instantly shifted to a darker, more intense state, his gaze penetrating with hostility. If glares could cause harm, George would have been obliterated. 

Yves’s rage erupted. “I’ll kill you!” He loaded a bullet into the chamber, lifted the firearm, and aimed it squarely at George. 

It wasn’t an idle threat. Yves pulled the trigger without hesitation. 

This wasn’t Cheshian territory or Taragon City. Even if George’s demise would enrage the Harris clan, Yves had always been a daring individual, willing to gamble everything. 

With swift reflexes, Isabelle intervened just before Yves fired, seizing the gun barrel and redirecting the aim. 

The gunshot reverberated, and the bullet struck the door frame. 

Her actions were rapid, making it difficult for the eyes to follow. In a flash, the gun was in her grasp, and Isabelle swiftly ejected the magazine from the firearm. 

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She spoke with composure, “What’s gotten into you?” 

Yet, it was clear that Isabelle was somewhat annoyed. 

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She continued, “I was giving him an acupuncture treatment.” 

Understanding Yves’s temperament, Jim stepped in to calm things down. “Hey, he was just getting an acupuncture treatment. What else could be happening in plain sight?”