Too Late to Hold Me Back novel Chapter 912

Knowing exactly what Mira was up to, Owen played along. "Grandfather, just let her take a look. It might even add a few years to your life."

"If you just stopped aggravating me, I'd live plenty long," the old man glared at him.

"Let her check. She's the one who pulled Eleanor Quinn back from the brink."

The old man knew about that. Everyone had heard Eleanor was on her deathbed, only for her to miraculously recover and remain healthy to this day.

He didn't know the specifics, and it hadn't seemed important enough to investigate.

Though Leonard didn't entirely trust Mira, getting his pulse checked wouldn't hurt. He extended his wrist.

After a moment, Mira delivered her diagnosis. "Your system is inflamed, and your circulation is sluggish. You've got joint stiffness that worsens in cold environments. I'd strongly advise against going outside in this chilly, windy weather. You need to rest indoors, stay warm, and get some sun with light exercise when the weather permits.

"A luxury nursing retreat would be ideal. They have top-tier facilities, professional care, and a serene environment free from outside stress. It would do wonders for your health."

"Did Owen tell you to say all that? When did you memorize that little speech, young lady?"

She was a known prodigy. He had ordered a thorough background check the moment he found out she was with Owen, but her reputation was built on corporate acquisitions, not medicine.

"She's a highly sought-after specialist. If you won't listen, that's your loss," Owen said.

"Specialist? Please. I know exactly what's wrong with me. Every ailment I have is caused by the sheer stress of dealing with my ungrateful descendants.

"Look, young lady, keep your prescriptions. Just tell Owen to stop giving me grief, and I'll be perfectly cured."

"I'm completely serious, Mr. Lance. If you want to live a long life, you need to step back from all these burdens and stop worrying about things."

Lawrence was clearly the one driving him to an early grave, yet he expected his eldest grandson to take the heat. What a joke.

"You sound exactly like Owen. My life is nothing but misery."

Seeing there was no reasoning with him, Mira dropped the conversation. While the old man was distracted, she sat next to Owen and discreetly typed a message on her phone, showing the screen to him.

"Owen, just give Lawrence one more chance, please?"

"Go home and rest, Grandfather. I'll notify you as soon as the final report is ready tomorrow."

Give him a chance? Did those dead workers get a second chance?

Once they were in the car, Mira asked, "Is everything arranged for your grandfather?"

"Don't worry. It's all set."

The pulse check had merely been an excuse. While holding his wrist, Mira had covertly applied a time-delayed transdermal sedative to the old man's skin. It would take effect in exactly twelve hours.

She had texted Owen to confirm the dose was applied, prompting him to finalize the logistics.

The old man had worked himself to the bone his whole life; it was time he enjoyed his twilight years. From now on, a tranquil, secluded luxury retreat would be his permanent home.