Flash Marriage: Pampered by Mr.Bigshot-Chapter 661 - 660: Uncle Peary Makes a Move

Maxwell Peary furrowed his brows, momentarily confused by what Nia Mitchell was saying.

"The thing, you know?"

What thing?

"It’s... it’s that, you know! Just move!"

Nia Mitchell blushed furiously, at a loss for words.

"What is ’that’?"

Nia Mitchell covered her face.

"It’s my period!"

BOOM—

Maxwell Peary was devastated; his whole world seemed to collapse. Hmph! Nia Mitchell, if you dare say that again, I swear I won’t tear you limb from limb!

"Move out of the way!"

Nia Mitchell, her face beet-red, pushed him aside. She quickly snatched her pajamas, put them on, and bolted to the bathroom.

Maxwell Peary hadn’t yet recovered. By the time he slowly accepted this fact and sat up from the bed, a red stain on the sheet caught his eye.

COUGH!

He awkwardly averted his eyes. He picked up his black pajamas from the side and put them on, only to find a red spot on his thigh as well.

GULP!

He swallowed hard. He wanted to go to the bathroom to wash up, but only remembered when he reached the door that Nia Mitchell was inside. What is he supposed to do now?

It’s safe to say that at this point, Maxwell Peary was utterly at a loss and not thinking straight.

Lacking the capacity to think, he allowed his body to dictate his actions.

Uhm... Can’t go in, can’t wash... Guess I’ll change the sheet first.

A small red stain was right in the center of the large bed. He quickly stripped off the sheet and then stared at the mattress beneath. It soaked through. How much blood must she have lost for it to soak through the entire sheet and stain what’s underneath?

Change the bed!

That was the CEO’s first reaction. If I sleep on this bed, the thought of doing *that* on it in the future will definitely give me a complex.

But it’s a bit late to change it now. Besides, if I change the bed, wouldn’t Rabina Mitchell think I’m disgusted with her?

One had to admit, the CEO was truly overthinking things.

Meanwhile, Rabina Mitchell, rooted to the spot in the bathroom, wasn’t worried about that.

Nia Mitchell stood in the bathroom, looking utterly woebegone. She hadn’t brought any underwear... No sanitary pads... So, what did she even run in here for?

Looking at her flustered reflection in the mirror, Nia Mitchell covered her face.

What to do, what to do, what to do? Going out to get underwear should be simple enough, but sanitary pads? She didn’t have any at all...

It’s over, it’s over. Don’t tell me she’ll have to open the door later and ask the CEO, "I don’t have any sanitary pads, do you?" Damn it! No, no way, that would absolutely be the death of her.

"This is so humiliating—"

Nia Mitchell wailed inwardly, slumping onto the toilet seat, the picture of despair.

In the bedroom, Maxwell Peary had already changed the sheet. His thigh was still stained with blood as he sat there and glanced at the time.

She’s been in there for almost half an hour. Could she have lost too much blood?

He looked again at the middle of the large bed. There was no visible trace anymore, but he knew clearly that just beneath that layer of fabric lay the evidence of Nia Mitchell’s "good deed."

She bled so much earlier; can she take it? She’s so small and thin...

Maxwell Peary sat there, his imagination running wilder the longer he waited. A faint smell of blood still lingered in the air.

No, this won’t do.

He immediately stood up and knocked on the bathroom door.

Nia Mitchell jumped, startled, her gaze instantly fixing on the door.

"Nia Mitchell, are you done? You’ve been in there for half an hour."

Nia Mitchell swallowed hard. I really want to be, but it seems I just can’t be.

"Almost, I’ll be out soon! Gosh, why are you rushing me for something like this?"