Enoch never believed Harlan was as saintly as he portrayed himself to be. But if Lilith liked him, he figured it wasn't worth commenting on.
Pouting, Lilith watched as Harlan took the initiative, "Uncle, it sounds like you're in need of a physiotherapist. I happen to know a highly reputable one; it's crucial to find someone with experience. You wouldn't want to end up with someone who makes things worse rather than better."
After he finished, he glanced meaningfully at Drusilla.
Drusilla's face hardened. She hadn't even brought up his misdeeds, yet here he was, eagerly trying to push her out of the Taylor family.
Was he really that afraid of her? After years tarnished by scandal, losing more jobs than she could count, was he still trying to get her fired, to corner her?
Enoch glanced between Drusilla and Harlan, and then decisively said, "No, she'll do."
Harlan insisted, "She doesn't seem reliable. If I'm not mistaken, she probably doesn't even have a certification."
Drusilla couldn't help but laugh at his persistence in discrediting her. She proudly presented her certificate to Harlan. "Perhaps Mr. Stanton would like to take a look?"
Lilith reached out, took the certificate, and inspected it.
Harlan hadn't expected her to actually produce a certificate. He took it from Lilith, examined it, and scoffed. "I wonder where you got this fake. It looks pretty authentic."
Biting her lip, Drusilla retorted, "Why don't you check the official registry? It seems Mr. Stanton is quite worried about me treating Mr. Taylor. Afraid I'll uncover some of your dirty secrets, perhaps?"
Trading barbs, was it?


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