Chapter 96
After a long while, Cleo's emotions finally settled.
She gripped Lucinda's hand and pulled her closer, lowering her voice. "Cindy, I've already made my will."
Her voice was soft, but every word was crystal clear. "Everything under my name—the houses, the land, the savings, the stocks—over a hundred million dollars in total. It's all going to you."
Lucinda's fingers paused slightly.
She hadn't expected Cleo to still have so much.
Back when those assets were swindled and stolen by the Wipere family, she'd thought there wasn't much left.
"Grandma, keep it for your retirement—"
"Retirement?" Cleo cut her off, her tone stubborn. "How many years do I have left? Those things—leaving them behind would just benefit those ungrateful wolves. Rather than let them squander it, I'd rather give it to you."
Her voice rose slightly, her breathing unsteady. She coughed twice, but her gaze was resolute. "My things—I give them to whoever I want. If you don't take them, I'll donate everything. Not a cent for them."
Lucinda looked at her, silent for a few seconds, then nodded. "Alright. I'll take it."
Only then did Cleo smile with satisfaction, the wrinkles on her face smoothing out.
She leaned back against the pillow, letting out a long breath—as if finally releasing a weight that had pressed on her heart for years.
Just then, Cleo's face suddenly flushed red, and she began coughing violently.
A flicker of alarm crossed Lucinda's eyes. She quickly pulled a small bottle from her bag, its opening sealed with wax.
Theo Green, standing nearby, lit up instantly.
He recognized that bottle.
Solsticex.
No—something even more precious than Solsticex.
These were top-grade pills Lucinda had formulated herself. Every ingredient cost a fortune, and some couldn't be bought with money at all.
She only had a few of them. Each one was priceless.
Lucinda fed the pill into Cleo's mouth, then helped her drink a few sips of water. She placed her fingers on Cleo's wrist, counting her heartbeat.
The medicine worked quickly.
In less than half a minute, color returned to Cleo's face, and her breathing became much steadier.
Her eyelids grew heavy, as if she were drowsy, but a smile still lingered on her lips. She held Lucinda's hand and refused to let go.
"Grandma, get some sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."
Lucinda pulled the blanket higher and tucked in the corners.
Cleo closed her eyes, her breathing gradually becoming deep and even.
Lucinda released her hand and pulled a small velvet box from her bag.
She opened it. Inside lay a necklace.
Platinum chain. The pendant was a green gemstone—entirely green, without a single flaw, glowing softly under the light.
This wasn't an ordinary gemstone.
Lucinda had embedded it with a special trace element that could slowly release through skin contact, suppressing inflammatory factors, improving blood circulation—extremely beneficial for brain recovery.
It had taken her over half a year to make this one. The cost of materials alone could buy an apartment in Starlight City.
But if it helped Cleo recover, it was worth it.
A smile touched her eyes. She fastened the necklace around Cleo's neck. The pendant settled just below her collarbone, the verdant green contrasting with Cleo's pale skin like a fresh shoot sprouting from withered wood.
Theo stood nearby, staring at the necklace, mouth slightly agape.
He wasn't a jewelry expert, but he'd worked at the nursing home for years—he'd seen plenty of valuable things.
That gemstone's quality, its clarity—any one aspect alone was auction-house level.
Never mind the technology embedded inside that he couldn't even begin to understand.
"Dr. Green." Lucinda straightened and turned to him. "My grandmother needs a senior physician assigned to her. Twenty-four-hour rotation, dedicated care. Top-tier compensation. Post a recruitment notice within the industry for me."
Theo nodded and pulled out his phone to send a message, but the door was knocked on.
"Come in."
The door opened. A man in a white lab coat walked in.
Early thirties, tall and slender, wearing gold-rimmed glasses. He exuded an air of scholarly elegance.
But his eyes were bright—bright as if hiding something extraordinary.
Dwight Mitchell.
The youngest special-grade researcher at the Bureau. A top expert in biomedicine.
Lucinda's brow furrowed slightly. "What are you doing here?"
Dwight walked in, a smile on his lips. His gaze swept the room before settling on Lucinda's face, his tone carrying a hint of matter-of-factness. "I'm here to apply. Senior physician. Twenty-four-hour rotation, dedicated care. I meet all the qualifications."
Lucinda looked at him, her frown deepening. "You're a special-grade researcher, and you're applying to be a physician at a nursing home?"
"Even special-grade researchers need to eat." Dwight's tone was casual. He pulled a neatly folded paper from his pocket, unfolded it—a hiring contract stamped with the nursing home's HR seal. "Besides, I've already passed the formal evaluation. Everything's compliant and legal. You can't kick me out."
Lucinda took the contract and glanced down.
Exam score: Excellent.
Interview evaluation: Immediate hire recommended.
She looked up at Dwight's face, which practically screamed "you can't do anything about me," and her mouth twitched. "What are you after?"
"Following the boss's lead." Dwight's tone grew more serious. "Wherever you are, I am. Whatever you do, I do. If you don't hire me, I'll keep interviewing until you do."
Lucinda took a deep breath and handed the contract back to him. "Fine. Stay. You know the rules—don't say what you shouldn't."
Dwight's eyes lit up instantly. He took the contract, folded it neatly, and tucked it back into his pocket, standing at attention. "Understood. Mission guaranteed."
Outside the room, several nurses stood together in the hallway, craning their necks to peek inside.
"That new doctor is so handsome…"
"Right? And so young—looks about the same age as Ms. Wipere."
"Don't you think he and Ms. Wipere look great together?"
"Totally! I hope they just get married on the spot!"
The group covered their mouths, giggling.
Dwight was oblivious, head down as he flipped through Cleo's medical records, brow slightly furrowed, expression focused.
Lucinda stood by the window, listing several precautions. "My grandmother's baseline health is poor. Medication must be gentle—no rushing. The necklace has a trace element slow-release system. Don't remove it. During baths, wrap it in a waterproof cover. Pills every three days, with warm water, fixed time in the morning. Call me immediately if there's anything unusual."
Dwight noted everything down, nodding. "Understood."
Lucinda glanced at her watch and picked up her bag. "I'm leaving. Contact me if anything comes up."
She turned and walked out. When she passed the group of nurses, they immediately suppressed their laughter, lowered their heads, and pretended to be busy.
Lucinda didn't stop, didn't even glance aside, and walked straight toward the end of the hallway.
The murmuring started up again behind her, kept low—but she had sharp ears. She caught every word.
She didn't turn back. Her mouth curved slightly.
These young ladies sure had plenty of free time.