Chapter 286

Chapter 286

Seraphine's hand trembled. The pipette slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor with a sharp crack.

"Ms. Manners!" A nearby researcher jumped, rushing to support her.

Seraphine's face went paper-white, fine beads of cold sweat breaking across her forehead.

She gripped the lab bench, eyes closed for a moment to steady herself, then waved them off.

"I'm fine. Old injury."

It was damage from a lab accident years ago.

Usually, willpower was enough to suppress it, but this time the pain came like a tidal wave, nearly drowning her consciousness.

When John burst into the lab, Seraphine had already been helped into a rest chair.

He saw her right arm hanging limp and her furrowed brow, his heart twisting into a knot.

He dialed a number directly.

The call was answered almost instantly.

"Speak." Lucius's voice was calm.

"Mr. Talbot, Ms. Manners... her old injury's flared up. She's in T Lab. It's bad."

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

"I'll be right there."

Fifteen minutes later, Lucius arrived at Nolan & Heidi Medical Research Center's dedicated medical facility.

The doctor had just finished the examination.

"Old rotator cuff tear with nerve adhesion. Overwork triggered acute inflammation." The doctor looked at the imaging films gravely. "We recommend immediate arthroscopic surgery, or it could affect the entire arm's function."

Lucius's gaze swept over the CT scan before settling on Seraphine's pale face.

He addressed the doctor directly. "Schedule surgery. Best equipment, best team."

His tone left no room for negotiation.

Seraphine looked at him but ultimately said nothing.

Outside the operating room, the red light flickered on.

John paced anxiously in the corridor.

Lucius simply stood quietly by the OR doors.

Barry arrived midway through, extending a tablet and murmuring, "Mr. Talbot, the Crown Prince of Vassirah has been waiting on the line for half an hour..."

"Not taking it."

"The Novaria Federal Reserve needs you to confirm some figures..."

"They can wait."

Two hours later, the operating room light finally went dark.

The doctor emerged. "Surgery was very successful, went smoothly. Once the anesthesia wears off, the patient will wake."

Lucius nodded, walked past the doctor, and entered the recovery room directly.

Seraphine lay in the hospital bed, her right arm immobilized, still asleep.

He pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed.

He didn't touch her or make a sound. Just watched.

When Seraphine's consciousness struggled up from the haze, and her eyes opened, the first thing she saw was that silhouette backlit against the window.

Lucius.

Sensing her movement, he stood and approached the bedside, leaning down to look at her.

"Awake?" His voice was low. "Doctor says the surgery was successful."

Seraphine blinked.

She tried to push herself up, but his hand gently pressed her shoulder back down.

"Don't move."

His palm was warm.

Seraphine didn't insist, only turned her head slightly, asking quietly, "The company..."

"I've got it."

A week later, Seraphine was discharged to recuperate at home.

When she opened her apartment door, she froze completely.

Her minimalist living room had been utterly transformed.

A massive ebony desk occupied what used to be the sofa's spot. On it sat several multi-screen information terminals used exclusively within the Talbot Group.

Beside it, a Bloomberg terminal was streaming real-time global financial data.

Barry was directing two technicians in the corner, calibrating a server array.

The entire living room had become a highly concentrated command center.

John followed behind, saw the scene, and dropped what he was carrying.

"Mr. Talbot... what is all this..."

Lucius emerged from the study, handed documents to Barry, then naturally took Seraphine's coat and hung it on the rack.

"Her recovery environment needs to be absolutely quiet and controlled."

He glanced at John. "Route Nolan & Heidi Medical's core operations directly here for easier handling."

John's mouth hung open, speechless.

That evening, Seraphine reclined on the sofa with a light blanket over her legs, reading literature.

Lucius was at the desk not far away, conducting a cross-border video conference in Valerian.

Midway through, he suddenly said "one moment" to the screen, then hit mute.

He stood, walked to Seraphine, and took the tablet from her hands.

Seraphine frowned at him.

He offered no explanation, simply turned to the kitchen and returned with a glass of warm milk, pressing it into her hands.

"You should rest."

Then he walked back to his desk.

Half a month later, Seraphine's apartment had fully transformed into another command center.

This tranquility was shattered on Wednesday afternoon by an encrypted email.

It came from Nolan & Heidi Medical Research Center's legal department—an inquiry from the Drug Administration attached, along with an anonymous letter alleging the G17 compound had "undisclosed serious delayed-onset neurological side effects."

They demanded that Nolan & Heidi Medical Research Center submit all clinical data within forty-eight hours for review.

John rushed into the apartment, face dark.

"Ms. Manners! This time they're gunning for your reputation!"

Seraphine's right arm was still suspended in a sling across her chest, her left hand controlling the mouse to package data.

Her expression didn't change.

"Market volatility is business. Questioning my data is war."

Lucius was just ending a video conference. He asked Seraphine directly, "How long do you need?"

"The investigation team arrives at Ark Base tomorrow at ten AM. Before then, I need to visualize all raw data from over twenty thousand clinical cases across five years globally, precise to every single neuron's electrical potential changes."

Lucius nodded and picked up the internal line. "Barry, allocate full computing power from Supercomputing Center Cluster Three to interface with Nolan & Heidi Medical Research Center's servers. Highest priority."

John listened from the side, stunned and speechless.

The next day, in Ark Base's central data room, the Drug Administration's investigation team arrived.

Leading them was a veteran industry expert, followed by stern-faced technical officials.

Seraphine wore a white lab coat, the arm sling not diminishing her professional presence at all.

She stood before the curved data wall, operating the control panel with her left hand.

"This is volunteer A0734 from Phase Three trials. Sixty-two years old, mid-stage Parkinson's."

Data streams unfurled across the screen.

"The anonymous letter mentions 'accelerated neuronal death,' which theoretically should show signal degradation here. But look—his dopaminergic neuron activity maintained ninety-two percent of peak levels one hundred eighty days post-treatment."

"This is case ten thousand and one from post-market tracking. A racehorse named 'Lightning' belonging to an Arvendale prince."

Seraphine pulled up another data set. "If delayed side effects existed, this thirty-million-dollar horse should be paralyzed by now. But it just won the championship at the Royal Racing Society last week."