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... glancing towards the sofa.
With just one glance, she was startled and quickly jogged over to the sofa.
The man’s face on the sofa was ashen, his forehead covered in cold sweat, clutching his stomach, eyes tightly shut, and thin lips pressed into a straight line.
Enna Clark hurriedly put down the water cup, squatted in front of him, and pushed his shoulder, "Baron Lawrence, what’s wrong with you? Where do you feel unwell?"
"Is it your stomach?"
She frowned ...
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