They returned to the Turners’ house shortly after.


    The bodyguard carried Hilliard to his room.


    As they ascended the stairs, Presley, d in pajamas, happened to see them.


    Curious and concerned, she halted Jennifer and inquired, “What’s the matter with Mr.


    Simmons? Why is he so drunk?”


    With fatigue etched on her face, Jennifer replied helplessly, “He consumed a lot of alcohol on an empty stomach.


    So, he’s quite drunk.


    ”


    “Well…” Presley pursed her lips.


    As Jennifer wanted to leave, she added, “You’re the reason he’s in this state.


    Shouldn’t you go to his room and look after him?”


    Jennifer was perplexed.


    “Mom, am I really your daughter? I’ve been working all day, and you don’t seem to care about me one bit.


    Now, you want me to tend to him?”


    Presley gently touched her cheek and said, “You’re undoubtedly my daughter.


    However, Mr.


    Simmons is our guest, and as hosts, it’s our responsibility to take care of him.


    Besides, he’s in this state because of you.


    ”


    Although Jennifer couldn’t deny the logic in Presley’s words, she hesitated.


    “He’s my secretary.


    It’s not typical for a boss to attend to her drunk secretary.


    ”


    Presley insisted, “We’re at home now, and your roles aren’t defined here.


    Go to his room, help him freshen up, maybe wipe his body with a damp towel, or something.


    I’ll prepare some hangover-cure soup for him.Exclusive ? content by N(?)ve/l/Drama.Org.


    ”


    Jennifer couldn’t believe her ears.


    Wipe his body?


    “Mom…”


    Ignoring Jennifer’s protests, Presley turned and headed downstairs to the kitchen.


    Jennifer watched helplessly at Presley’s retreating figure.


    She sighed and stood in the corridor for a moment.


    Eventually, she opened the door to Hilliard’s room and walked in.


    The bodyguard had ced him on the bed and left.


    Hilliard was sprawled across the bed, uncovered.


    Jennifer nced at the wide-open window.


    The curtain swayed gently in the cold night breeze.


    Without a nket, he might catch a cold the next day.


    Guilt gnawed at her.


    She approached the bed and struggled to ce a pillow beneath Hilliard’s head.


    The smell of alcohol was all over him.


    She really needed to clean him up.


    With this in mind, she fetched warm water and a towel from the bathroom and ced them on the table.


    She then sat on the edge of the bed, removed Hilliard’s suit jacket, and meticulously unbuttoned his shirt.