Lyndon cast a quick look in his direction.

Rosalynn, still in Brian's grasp, chimed in, “I'll drop by tonight."

Lyndon's eyes softened at her.

"No need. The caregiver's here. You needn't bother. Don't tire yourself."

"I'm not tired," Rosalynn replied.

But Lyndon was.

Exhausted by their overt displays of affection.

"Rosa, really, you mustn't. I'll call my assistant if there's a need.

You go on with your day," Lyndon insisted, compelling Rosalynn to relent.

"Then I'll bring you the congee I cook tomorrow morning," she offered.

"Alright," Lyndon conceded quietly.

Cradling Rosalynn, Brian acknowledged Lyndon with a nod, signaling his triumph, and departed.

Lyndon, with the door now shut, tightened his lips and closed his eyes gradually.

He hoped Brian could always be kind to Rosalynn.

Otherwise, Lyndon was prepared to step in.

Once outside, Rosalynn pushed away from Brian's grasp, and he released her.

She inhaled deeply, adjusted her attire, shot Brian a scathing look, and hastened toward the elevator.

Brian trailed behind at his own pace.

Inside the elevator, Rosalynn inquired, “Did you pluck my hair for a DNA test?"

Brian's expression grew stern at the question.