Chapter 14

The reaction resembled an endurance runner trying to steady their breathing after crossing the finish line—the body's instinctive responses impossible to conceal completely in an instant.

Diana's movements froze. An absurd yet perfectly logical thought flashed through her mind. Had he heard the "trial" in the dining room? Was he tense on her behalf? Or angry at his foolish stepmother and vindictive uncle?

But how could someone in a vegetative state possibly have consciousness?

Diana's expression turned playful. Perhaps a little test was in order.

She leaned down close to Rupert's ear, her warm breath gently brushing against his earlobe. "Grandfather has entrusted your life to me, so you'd better behave yourself and not cause any trouble."

On the bed, Rupert's eyelashes trembled slightly, his breathing remaining "steady."

Diana straightened up, unconcerned whether he responded or not. She turned to the medical cart nearby and expertly selected a small ampoule from a row of medications. She broke it open and drew 0.5 milliliters of clear liquid into a syringe.

It wasn't a sedative or any drug that would affect the central nervous system—just a potent complex of vitamin B and trace elements.

She returned to the bedside and slowly injected the solution into his IV line. "If your vital signs show any unplanned fluctuations again, I'll assume your condition is deteriorating."

She tossed the used syringe into the medical waste bin and turned back, her lips curving into a cool smile. "In that case, to 'save' you, who knows what aggressive treatment protocols I might employ—perhaps opening your skull to examine your neural pathways."

As her words fell, the heart rate line on the monitor very obligingly made another slight jump upward before quickly returning to normal. Apparently, her new "patient" was quite perceptive.

Diana pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. She said nothing more, simply taking out her tablet to process an encrypted email from overseas.

The screen's glow illuminated her cool face, her expression focused yet detached.

Lying on the bed, in an angle Diana couldn't see, Rupert's eyeballs moved rapidly beneath his tightly closed lids.

This Diana, whom the York family had discarded as a pawn, whom Alvina and Cruz had considered an easy target, had managed to turn the Russell family upside down in less than a week after her arrival.

Courageous and strategic, bold and perceptive—his grandfather's assessment couldn't have been more accurate.

But how had she seen through him? His disguise had fooled even the private medical team that had attended him for years.

Rupert's thoughts raced. Was it those subtle fluctuations in his vital signs? A calculated test? Or had she never believed he was in a vegetative state from the beginning?

Who exactly was this Diana?

Night deepened, and the noise outside faded into complete silence.

In the bedroom, one sitting and one lying—one navigating the virtual world with strategic precision, the other stirring massive waves in silent darkness. A curious equilibrium quietly formed in this small room.

Diana finished with the email and closed her tablet. As the screen's light died, her face retreated into the dimness, leaving only her clear eyes gazing quietly at the figure on the bed.

After her half-true, half-bluffing threat, the "patient" hadn't shown any further abnormal fluctuations on the monitors. Yet Diana's mind remained unsettled.

That momentary anomaly couldn't be explained away as simply an emotional leak from a supposedly vegetative Rupert.

Emotions could prompt the brain to dramatically alter heart rate, but they couldn't control instantaneous fluctuations in oxygen saturation, nor explain the fine cold sweat at his temples and that sense of exhaustion following tension beneath his skin.

It more closely resembled the stress response of a body fighting against an invading toxin.

Diana's gaze suddenly sharpened. Without hesitation, she turned and retrieved a black, matte-finished square object from an inconspicuous travel case in the corner.

It looked identical to any high-capacity power bank on the market, right down to the connection ports.

This disguise for a miniature medical diagnostic device had been specifically designed to evade Alvina and Cruz's scrutiny.

Diana approached the bed and ran her fingertip along an unmarked groove on the side of the "power bank." The casing silently slid open, revealing precise micro-slots inside and a small folded flexible screen.

She removed a sensor patch smaller than a fingernail from one of the slots, connected to a hair-thin probe on the other end.

She efficiently attached the probe to the extension port of Rupert's IV catheter and placed the sensor patch on the skin of his wrist.

The "power bank" screen illuminated with a blue glow as countless complex data points refreshed. Within seconds, the data integrated into several analysis curves.

Beside one line representing neural system activity, another indicator labeled "Toxin-7" was visibly climbing upward.

Its current reading had entered the orange warning zone, with less than ten percent remaining before reaching the red danger threshold at the top.

Toxin-7—an extremely rare and insidious compound neurotoxin. It wouldn't kill immediately but would gradually destroy the central nervous system like a frog in slowly heating water, eventually causing irreversible deep brain damage.

Rupert's current physical anomalies were due to an acute episode of this toxin. His body's metabolism of the medication was slowing, allowing toxin concentrations to accumulate again and begin a new round of neural degradation.

Diana's eyes turned cold as ice. She could easily imagine Alvina's daily visits of fake concern, perhaps to confirm whether this novel toxin was working according to plan.

Rupert's situation was truly miserable—multiple toxins had formed a precarious balance in his immune system, and before an antidote could be found for the long-term unknown poison, new toxins were being introduced into his system.

She quickly put away the micro-analyzer and retrieved an unremarkable white pill bottle with no label from a hidden compartment in her medical bag.

She tipped out a dark brown pill that emitted a faint bitter herbal scent and held it in her palm.

After completing these preparations, she glanced at the unfortunate Rupert on the bed without a trace of gentleness.

She picked up the lukewarm water from the bedside table with one hand while her other hand's fingers directly probed between Rupert's lips, precisely locating the gap between his teeth and forcefully prying them apart.

Lying on the bed, Rupert had never been more conscious. He could feel Diana's cool fingertips with their forceful pressure prying open his mouth. A pill was pushed deep into his throat, immediately followed by a stream of warm water.

The entire process was rough and direct, without any hesitation.

After returning the water glass to its place, Diana pulled her chair back to the bedside and fixed her gaze on the monitoring equipment, pouring all her attention into that small screen.

Meanwhile, Rupert gradually felt the stagnant discomfort that had kept him tense beginning to recede. His previously sluggish senses became sharp again.