My Mommy Became A Billionaire After the Breakup
Chapter 1924

Chapter 1924 Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

Byron was slightly startled.

Following the boy's surprised gaze, he slowly looked at his wrist.

The collar of his black shirt was soaked with blood, and the red blood dripped down his palms to his fingertips and then fell to the ground.

"Mr. Crawford!"

The boy stood next to him, looking nervous and frightened.

"It's okay." Byron shook his head.

"There's so much blood. How can everything be okay? I'll make a call and take you to the hospital!"

"No!"

Byron stopped his behavior almost reflexively.

"I was injured before. I probably accidentally pulled the wound. I will take care of it myself." Byron became cold. He took out his wallet and put all the cash on the bench. "Just keep the money and return it to me when your grandma comes back."

"Mr. Crawford..."

"Don't worry. It's not serious. I'll take care of it."

After saying that, Byron looked around. "Where is the restroom?"

The boy pointed in a certain direction.

Byron walked straight over there.

The restroom had just been cleaned, and a fragrant incense was lit.

Byron entered a stall and untied his cuffs. The long wound on his wrist that was supposed to heal opened for some reason.

Looking at the wound that was still bleeding, Byron was gloomy.

He suddenly recalled that morning.

He didn't know why he was in the bathroom, but the moment he heard Athena's voice at the door, he woke up.

At that time, the razor blade had cut his wrist open.

The voice outside the door was just in time, and the wound was not too deep.

He tried to stay sober and calm and responded to Athena's questions as if nothing had happened.

Then he quickly treated the wound and went downstairs as usual.

Later, Byron thought about the reasons carefully.

He also consulted some psychiatrists anonymously.

The most common result was that it might be post-traumatic stress disorder.

Byron expressionlessly looked at the small drops of blood on his wrist, numbly pulled out a large amount of toilet paper, and pressed it on the wound to stop the bleeding. The thick roll of paper was almost used by him.

The bleeding finally stopped.

When Byron left the restroom, the boy and the money were gone.

He didn't take it seriously.

With that money, the child would not be without food.

He stood there and thought about it.

Then, he purchased some medicines and supplies for wound treatment online.

When writing the address, he almost instinctively wrote the apartment in the city center where he and Athena once lived.

He took a taxi and went to the apartment.

When he arrived, the medicines were hanging on the door.

Byron unlocked the door with his fingerprint and pushed in.

The apartment was cleaned twice a week, so it was still very clean.

The florist would still deliver flowers at a fixed time, and the cleaner would sign for them, then prune them, and put them into the designated vase. Time had passed for many years.

But time in this apartment seemed to have been pressed on the pause button.

Byron dragged his tired body to the sofa and sat down.

Then, he carefully treated the wound and wrapped it in circles with gauze, ensuring there was no chance of the wound opening.

After that, Byron lowered his head and saw the blood on his shirt rubbing onto the sofa.

Becoming nervous, he stood up and quickly wiped the blood stain.

It seemed that if he dirtied this place, it would be a big sin.

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