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Novel Catalog
Chapter 32
Jonathan was visibly moved by Roxanne’s determination, but before responding, he glanced at Lucian, seeking his approval.
Lucian remained silent, his gaze cold and unwavering as he observed Roxanne. The air between them felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension.
After a moment, Jonathan nodded in agreement. “Then I’ll take you to my grandfather. Please follow me.”
Roxanne couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh of relief. She forced herself to ignore Lucian’s cold stare and followed Jonathan up the stairs, trying her best to keep her composure.
Frieda, still uneasy about her brother’s decision, lingered for a moment before following them.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the large hallway as the trio disappeared around the corner of the stairs, heading upstairs toward Alfred’s room.
Downstairs, Estella tugged at her father’s collar, a silent plea for him to follow. Lucian looked down at his daughter, his expression softening slightly. With a small sigh, he turned his gaze back to the staircase and made his way up, trailing behind them.
Roxanne nearly jumped out of her skin when Lucian suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs as she arrived at Alfred’s room.
“We’ve arrived,” Jonathan announced, breaking her focus.
She forced herself to calm down, her pulse racing as she stepped into the room, trying to ignore the unsettling presence of Lucian following closely behind her.
The room smelled strongly of medicine, the sharp scent hitting her senses as soon as she walked in. It was a stark, sterile environment—a dedicated medical room designed for treating the critically ill.
A large bed sat in the center of the room, surrounded by a small team of medical professionals dressed in white coats. They were gathered around the bed, likely overseeing Alfred’s condition.
Jonathan led her directly to the bed, his voice low. “Dr. Jarvis, please. The patient is here.”
Roxanne lowered her gaze to the frail form lying in the bed.
Alfred’s condition was worse than she had imagined. His body was gaunt, his skin stretched tightly over his bones. His cheeks were hollowed, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor. If not for the medical equipment surrounding him, anyone would think he was a corpse.
Her expression turned grim. This was as severe as Colby had described—perhaps even worse.
Without wasting any time, she gently took Alfred’s wrist in her hand, checking his pulse.
Jonathan, standing behind her, watched in silence. He was surprised by the simplicity of her approach. She’s using traditional medicine to diagnose him? His surprise was palpable. Given the many renowned doctors the Queen family had consulted, none had resorted to such a basic technique.
Still, Jonathan said nothing, though doubt lingered in his mind.
Roxanne’s focus was entirely on the pulse beneath her fingers. As the seconds ticked by, her frown deepened.
The more she felt for his pulse, the more it confirmed her worst fears.
Alfred’s condition was far worse than she’d anticipated. His pulse was weak and irregular, each beat coming slower than the last. His breath was shallow, barely perceptible. It felt as though each inhalation might be his last.
She slowly let go of his wrist, her face clouded with concern. Her mind raced with the severity of his condition.
After a moment, she turned to Jonathan, her expression serious.
“What’s the result, Dr. Jarvis? Can you treat him? Can you help my grandfather?” His voice was laced with a desperate hope, his eyes fixed on her, waiting for her answer.
But Roxanne’s brow furrowed further. There was something bothering her, something she couldn’t ignore.
“Why wasn’t Old Mr. Queen sent to a hospital?” she asked, her voice sharp with concern. “Why is he being kept here, in such critical condition, when medical professionals outside this house could help him more effectively? Does his condition not warrant urgent intervention?”
Jonathan’s face faltered, a flicker of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He hesitated before responding. “We… we thought it was best to keep him here, where he’s comfortable. The hospital… well, we weren’t sure it would make much difference anymore.”
Roxanne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. His condition was beyond the point where comfort could make a difference. The man was hanging on by a thread, and they were still keeping him isolated in a private room?
She stood there for a moment, her gaze flicking back to Alfred, a silent rage building within her.
There was more going on here than just medical treatment.
