His mind grew increasingly restless.
Taylor picked up the pen again, but the inspiration to write had vanished.
The corners of his lips twitched slightly as he set the pen down and walked to the balcony, standing motionless.
His cold, heavy gaze narrowed slightly into the empty distance, as if lost in memory.
Inside the room at the rear of the Luther Family Estate, Dr. Caleb felt as though an entire mountain weighed upon him under Sinclair’s piercing stare.
Even breathing became an exercise in caution.
His hand, gripping the scalpel, trembled faintly—not from cowardice, but from the sheer, suffocating intensity of Sinclair’s presence.
Noticing this, Sinclair’s expression darkened with displeasure.
Camilla spoke up, diverting his attention.
"Keep me company for a while, won’t you?"
Sinclair replied softly, lowering his gaze to meet hers.
His fingers brushed gently against her cheek.
"What would you like to talk about,
His deep, husky voice was brimming with tenderness.
Camilla curled her lips into a faint smile and leaned against Sinclair, deliberately keeping her tone light.
"Does my complexion look terrible right now? Really awful?"
"You’re beautiful," Sinclair murmured, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.
His chiseled features were etched with sincerity and warmth.
"In my eyes, Camilla is always beautiful."
It wasn’t a sweet thing—it was the simple truth.
Iris watched them, her perceptive eyes flickering with confusion.
Weren’t mortal affections between men and women supposed to be hollow?
Why were the CEO and his wife different?
Camilla’s smile deepened, her gaze shimmering like starlight as she looked at Sinclair.
Clearly, his words had touched her heart. While the two were speaking, Dr. Caleb had already taken a scalpel and made a three-to-four-centimeter incision where the blood had been drawn earlier.
Crimson blood welled up instantly.
To monitor the progress of the poison worm, local anesthesia couldn’t be administered.
The sharp pain made Camilla flinch involuntarily, her brows furrowing briefly before relaxing again.
Despite the agony, her weak, trembling gaze remained fixed on Sinclair.
"Sinclair, it’s alright... It doesn’t hurt."
Even now, she was still trying to comfort him.
Sinclair pulled her tightly into his arms, his eyes fixed on the wound over her heart.
His own chest ached as if crushed by an invisible hand, each breath labored and suffocating.
This was all because of him.
"Miss Iris, are we ready?"
Dr. Caleb turned to Iris with a grave expression.
After examining the wound’s depth and position, Iris glanced past Sinclair to meet Camilla’s eyes.
"Mrs. Luther, I’m going to release the poison worm now."
Finally, the last step.
Too weak to speak, Camilla gave only a faint nod in response.
Sinclair’s knuckles turned white as his hands clenched into fists, veins bulging prominently on the back of his hands.
It seemed all his self-control and endurance had been exhausted today.
Iris placed the porcelain vial containing the antidote near Camilla’s wound, then raised a short flute to her lips.
This time, the flute’s melody was not as piercing as before—instead, it carried an unusually soothing tone, almost like a gentle summons, coaxing something forth.
Soon, a black-and-gold venomous worm, previously cleansed with a special solution, crawled out slowly.
Drawn by the scent of blood from the wound, it burrowed inside.
Dr. Caleb’s brow furrowed deeply, and his body gave an involuntary shudder.
Even though Camilla had braced herself for the pain, the sensation of the insect tunneling beneath her skin far surpassed her expectations.
Her hands clenched into fists with all her strength, her red lips pressed tightly together, barely stifling the scream that threatened to escape.
In mere moments, her entire body was drenched in sweat.
Iris lowered the flute and spoke.
"Dr. Caleb, please bandage the wound," she said, then turned to Camilla.
Iris gazed at Camilla with gentle eyes, her voice soft as morning dew.
"If you can endure the next twenty-four hours, the poison worm will be successfully transferred."
Sinclair’s dark eyes constricted sharply.
Sinclair knew all too well how excruciating these hours would be for Camilla.
For him, even more so.
"Don’t worry," Camilla nodded, forcing a frail smile onto her pallid lips.
"I’ll make it through."
Iris inclined her head slightly.
Had anyone else said those words, she might have harbored doubts.
But coming from Mrs. Luther, inexplicably believed it.
Though the process of extracting the poison seemed straightforward, it drained one’s spirit like nothing else. Iris’s face had also turned pale.
Camilla, ever observant, noticed immediately.
"If there’s nothing else, you and grandma. Porter should go rest," she said gently.
Iris shook her head, about to protest, but Camilla cut her off.
"You need to conserve your strength," Camilla insisted, leaning against Sinclair’s chest.
Despite her own pallid, bloodless face, her expression was tender.
"That way, if anything unexpected happens, you’ll have the energy to help me."
Hearing this, Iris could no longer refuse.
"If it becomes too much for you, call for me right away," Iris said softly, her gaze fixed on Camilla.
"I can use the guqin flute to put the gu insects into temporary dormancy.
But this method only delays the pain—it doesn’t shorten the duration."
Some truths were harsh, but they had to be spoken plainly.
In other words, the time the poison insects remained dormant would simply be added later.
The twenty-four hours couldn’t be reduced.
Camilla made up her mind, nodding calmly with an indifferent expression.
Iris glanced at Sinclair but said nothing more before turning to leave.
Camilla then looked at Dr. Caleb.
"You should take the others and get some rest too."
Without waiting for Dr. Caleb’s response, she continued, "I’ll call if we need anything."
Sinclair lowered his gaze, watching Camilla with deep, unreadable eyes.
Who would have thought that even at a time , Mrs. Luther would still consider their well-being?
Dr. Caleb’s eyes flickered slightly, moved by her thoughtfulness.
After she left, only Sinclair and Camilla remained in the room.
The atmosphere instantly plunged into utter silence.
Luke’s eyes widened in surprise as Ramsey walked in.
"You’re awake already?
Not like he had a choice.
Ramsey suppressed a sigh, his expression turning grave.
Luke stiffened, his gaze darting toward the door.
Tonight just kept getting worse—one crisis after another.
"I didn’t tell him Mr. Luther and Madam are here.
His’s headed to the basement now," Ramsey said, his voice low and tense.
"But it’s only a matter of time before he finds out."
His brow furrowed deeper.
"What we need to figure out is how to explain this to him later."
A chill ran down Luke’s spine at the mere thought of grandpa’s piercing, authoritative gaze.
"I can’t lie to the old man," Luke was already heading out the door, casting a glance back at Ramsey.
"Ramsey, buddy, you handle this one. I owe you big time."
Before Ramsey could respond, Luke quickened his pace and vanished from the medical room.
Ramsey: "..." Honest question—what kind of friend just ditches you like that?
Just then, Luke’s stiff, uneasy voice drifted in from outside the door.
Ramsey’s furrowed brow instantly smoothed.
Karma’s a beautiful thing.