Ryan Carter jumped up and grabbed him: "What's wrong with you?"

Ethan Bolton looked at the hand holding him, then at Ryan Carter's healthy-looking face: "I'm fine."

After having lunch at the The Carter Family, the two of them drove to Edward Sullivan's clinic. On the way, a technician from the smart brain repair service called, saying that the data from Louis XIII had been extracted, but it would still take some time to fix it. They suggested buying a new one for now and importing the data to use temporarily.

"Let's go buy one after the checkup. What should we name it this time? Louis XIV?" Ryan Carter said, unable to hold back a laugh. Such a cringey name—he was embarrassed to say it in front of outsiders.

The Maserati suddenly braked hard and stopped by the roadside. Ethan Bolton turned his head, reached out, and pinched his little wife's face, his expression gloomy: "Don't laugh."

"What's wrong?" Ryan Carter blinked.

"When you laugh, you don't look like him." The domineering, unreasonable tone showed no concern for how these words might hurt the person in front of him. His deep eyes were full of a desperate longing.

"...Dior Mr. Bolton?"

"How many times have I told you, don't call me by my full name! Call me... Big Dick."

"......"

Chapter 9: The Substitute Lover of the Rich Family (2)┃Don't Mention His Name!

"It's still pretty rare for the condition to relapse like this. It's probably because Louis XIII's internal setup is too advanced. The memory is large, so it stores a lot..."

Edward Sullivan gave the CEO another test, and this time the results were different from last time.

"It seems he's fallen into a new storyline. This time, he doesn't think you're his little wife, but rather someone's substitute," Edward Sullivan quickly produced a diagnostic report. "Here are some materials that might help you."

Ryan Carter took it, expecting some medical theory, but it turned out to be a book list:

"The CEO's Substitute Ex-Wife"

"The Empire's Chief's Substitute Lover"

"Scumbag Top and Cheap Bottom: I'm Just a Stand-In"

"Painful Love: The Dragon Emperor's Substitute Demon Queen"

"......" Ryan Carter folded up the book list and tossed it in the trash. "Mr. Sullivan, do you remember your own profession?"

"Of course I do. A top doctor's treatment plan doesn't just include treating the patient, but also psychological counseling for the family. Right now, Mr. Bolton's condition can't be treated directly, so I'm counseling you, hoping you'll be mentally prepared for the days ahead." Edward Sullivan said sincerely.

Ryan Carter rubbed his temples in frustration: "I don't need this service. Please remove it from the bill."

Edward Sullivan shrugged: "Alright, but there's a new surprise." He took out another document, firmly sealed in a pink-and-blue folder.

This was the latest research result sent by Edward Sullivan's mentor yesterday. It was top secret and unpublished, very valuable. If you wanted to read it, you had to pay a borrowing fee.

"I originally thought Mr. Bolton was cured, so there was no need to show you this. But now that he's relapsed, I think it might help you." Edward Sullivan might be a bit of a money-grubber, but his professional ethics as a doctor were solid—he never lied about his field. If he said it was useful, it definitely was.

Ryan Carter took the document and glanced at it.

It was an all-English report, the sentences even a bit jumbled, clearly a draft. The content was actually quite simple: the mentor had observed a phenomenon.

[People with Smart Brain Disorder, when experiencing confusion, will mix it with their own memories.]

"Maybe you can take this chance to learn some of your husband's little secrets." Edward Sullivan said with a wink, putting the document away again.

You really could dig up quite a few secrets. Ryan Carter nodded, looking at the old top sitting impatiently to the side, his eyes darkening slightly. So, that "not like him" from earlier—who was he referring to?

Edward Sullivan noticed the family member's mood was off and quickly added, "Of course, it's mainly due to the memory information disorder. It's hard to tell what's real and what's not, so you don't need to take it too seriously."

Ryan Carter had no choice but to take the Big Dick CEO home.

Since it was the weekend, they returned to the villa, where dinner was already being prepared.

Ethan Bolton sat grandly in the center of the living room sofa, pointing at Ryan Carter, who was leisurely drinking tea, and said to the butler, "He'll be living here from now on. Just give him any job—gardener or cook or whatever."

The maid who was pouring tea for Ryan Carter looked over in surprise. Her hand shook, and the black tea spilled onto the pristine white saucer.

The butler, however, remained calm as ever: "Alright, I remember you bought a little apron last year. I'll go find it for you."

"Ahem..." Ryan Carter choked immediately. The butler probably thought the two of them were going to play some weird game—like a strapping young gardener and the garden owner, or a delicate chef and a perverted guest.

The maid looked up at the butler in admiration. Such psychological fortitude, such quick reflexes—truly worthy of a doctorate from the London Butler Academy.

"Ignore him, he's just messing around. Let's eat." Ryan Carter stood up and walked to the dining table. Who knew what strange role this guy had assigned him this time.

Ethan Bolton sat down across from Ryan Carter, picked up his wine glass and swirled it: "From now on, I'll provide for you, but you have to behave and do as I say."