Chapter Fifteen
The ward was thick with silence, broken only by the rasping sound of the old man’s labored breathing. Adrian’s words–poison–hung in the air like a blade, cutting through doubt, pride, and fear.
No one spoke at first. The doctors shifted uncomfortably, their confidence fractured. Catherine’s parents exchanged stricken glances, while Catherine herself could only stare at Adrian, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.
And Marco–her cousin, the loudest skeptic a moment ago humiliation, but from the shock of having his darkest secre
stood frozen. His face was still flushed, not just from torn into the open.
He swallowed hard, unable to meet Adrian’s eyes. Nobody in the family knew his condition. Not even Catherine. Yet this man had seen it in a glance.
Marco’s anger withered into something else–fear, yes, but also a spark of hope. If he can see through me… maybe he can fix me too.
One of the senior physicians finally broke the silence. His voice trembled with indignation as he adjusted his glasses. “Poison? Young man, do you have any idea how absurd that sounds? We are licensed experts. We’ve run blood tests, liver scans, everything available in modern medicine. Not once have we seen evidence of poisoning.”
Adrian’s gaze flicked toward him, calm but cutting. “Because you were looking in the wrong place.”
The physician bristled. “Excuse me?”
Adrian stepped closer to the bed, his voice low but firm. “The toxin isn’t in his blood. It’s in his marrow, hidden deep, released slowly over time. Any ordinary test would mistake it for organ failure. That’s why you couldn’t find it. You were blind.”
Gasps rippled through the family.
The physician stiffened, his pride wounded. “Impossible! If what you say were true, we would have-”
“You would have what?” Adrian cut in sharply, his tone like a lash. “Let him die while you argued over charts? Tell me, doctor–how many weeks did you give him?”
The physician’s jaw locked. “We… We said two.”
Adrian’s expression hardened. “Two? He doesn’t have two weeks. He doesn’t even have five days if the poison continues unchecked.”
The words dropped like thunder. Catherine’s mother clutched her husband’s arm, trembling. “Five… days?”
Her father’s face went ashen. “Dear God…”
Catherine’s voice cracked. “Adrian…”
Adrian didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the old man, as if daring the poison itself to reveal more.
Marco suddenly stepped forward, his tone quieter than anyone expected. “If… if he’s right, if this really is poison … then what happens next?”
Everyone turned to him. His earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by something uneasy, almost respectful. His eyes darted to Adrian, then down again, shame burning in his cheeks.
Adrian caught the look. He knew exactly what was hiding behind it–the unspoken plea, the private desperation. But he didn’t press it, not here. Not now.
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“Next?” Adrian said calmly. “Next, we treat it.”
The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. One of them stepped forward, trying to reassert control. “You claim to know the cause, but do you have proof? Anyone can make bold statements. Where is your evidence?”
Adrian’s lips curved into a thin, cold smile. “Evidence?”
He pressed two fingers gently against the old man’s wrist again, his eyes sliding shut. The room held its breath. For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock and the shallow wheeze of the patient.
Then Adrian opened his eyes. “His poison comes in cycles. The next attack will hit within the hour. Watch closely, and you’ll see symptoms no disease could create.”
The doctors scoffed under their breath, but their unease betrayed them.
Catherine’s father stepped forward, his voice strained. “And if you’re right? If it is poison… can you save him?”
Adrian looked at him without hesitation. “Yes.”
The conviction in his voice was like steel.
Gasps filled the ward. Even the doctors fell silent.
Catherine clutched her hands to her chest, her eyes burning. “Then… what do we need? What’s the solution?”
All eyes turned to Adrian. The question rang through the ward like a verdict.
Adrian straightened slowly, his presence filling the room. The solution,” he said, his tone calm but heavy, “is not in your medicines. It lies in the knowledge passed down from generations long before your textbooks existed. If you truly want him saved… then you’ll trust me to handle this my way.”
The family froze, caught between disbelief and desperate hope. The physicians bristled, torn between pride and fear of being proven wrong.
And Catherine, her voice trembling but resolute, whispered the words that silenced them all:
“Adrian… tell us what to do.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
