Chapter 586

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Nicole couldn't sleep in dirty clothes after taking a shower.

Therefore, Roscoe kindly provided him with a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, which belonged to him.

Nicole was stunned for a moment. It felt strange to wear his clothes.

Roscoe reassured her: "They're new. I've washed them, but I haven't worn them yet.

In times when there were no Watts family duties, Roscoe often spent the night here, leaving some of his belongings downstairs.

His explanation made Nicole feel a little melodramatic. After all, it was just clothes. Even if Roscoe had used them, so what? She accepted them graciously and replied, "Thank you."

Roscoe then handed him a bottle of lotion, suggesting, "You might want to apply this to your feet and elbows later."

He noticed that those areas of Nicole had been grazed.

“And also…” Roscoe paused, took a document out of his pocket, and handed it to Nicole. «These are confidential dealings between the Watts and Schultz families. You might find it useful.”

With these words, Roscoe left and closed the door behind him.

Nicole gripped the document tightly, her thoughts racing. Despite the illegal nature of the situation, Roscoe's actions clearly constituted a betrayal of the Watts family.

Suddenly, the weight of the document in his hands felt overwhelming and caused him pain. What repercussions Roscoe would face if the Watts family discovered his actions... He stopped himself from contemplating it.

After taking a shower, Nicole left the bathroom.

Nicole put on Roscoe's outfit. However, it was too long, so he had to tie his shirt at the side and roll up his pants to his ankles.

After a drying session, she felt dry, possibly from the steam. Therefore, he went down to the kitchen to get water.

Upon entering the living room, Nicole smelled a faint smell of blood. It was quite strong.

He looked down and saw his newly removed jacket. The smell seemed to emanate from her.

With one hand, he picked her up and examined her closely. Dried blood stains adorned the chest of the black leather jacket. Their matte finish had hidden them from view.

However, he had not suffered any injuries. So, could this blood be…?

Nicole turned and headed for Roscoe's door.

Finding it open, Nicole opened it without a second thought.

“Roscoe, what…” she began, but the sight before her cut her off.

Roscoe was perched on a stool, clumsily nursing the wounds on his back. A deep laceration ran from his shoulder to his lower back.

Struggling to reach the wound, his efforts to apply the medicine were ineffective, and the bleeding had not stopped.

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