Chapter 186
Manuel caught the insinuation in Dahlia's words almost instantly. His expression turned ice-cold.
He stepped forward, placing himself in front of Lucinda. "From the moment Cindy walked in, she's only sat by the bed for a little while. She's barely said two words to Grandma. She said nothing—so how exactly did she 'upset' her?"
He looked at Dahlia, the faint disappointment in his eyes deepening. "On the other hand, you were standing right there when Grandma had her episode. Other than opening your mouth to make snide remarks, what did you actually do? When Cindy was trying to save her with that pill, you were over there saying, 'What if something goes wrong?' Are you hoping something happens to Grandma, or are you hoping something happens to Cindy?"
Dahlia's face froze.
She never imagined that her brother—who'd always doted on her—would say something like this to her.
Her lips trembled several times. She wanted to defend herself, but her throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. Not a single word came out.
She stood at the foot of the bed, holding the fruit platter as if it were burning her hands. She didn't know whether to set it down or keep holding it.
She lowered her head and placed the platter on the bedside table, her voice dripping with grievance. "Manuel… I didn't mean it like that. I was just worried about Grandma…"
"If you're worried, do something useful. And talk less."
Dahlia fell completely silent. She didn't dare say another word.
The room quieted for a moment. The on-call doctor was the first to recover.
He removed his stethoscope and walked up to Lucinda, his face full of astonishment. "Ms. Wipere, that pill you used just now… what's its mechanism of action? I've been in emergency medicine for over a decade, and I've never seen a drug that can reverse respiratory failure that quickly."
The young nurse beside him couldn't help but step forward as well. "Ms. Wipere, that massage technique you used was really unique. We've never learned anything like that in our nursing courses. Could you teach us?"
Lucinda glanced at them and didn't refuse.
She walked to the bedside, picked up a pen from Orla's bedside table, pulled a blank prescription slip from the drawer, and began writing a few lines.
"The main active ingredient in this pill is gypenoside. It reverses acute respiratory depression faster than conventional bronchodilators. Sublingual administration allows it to take effect immediately."
Her pace was steady and measured. As she explained, the eyes of the doctor and nurse beside her grew brighter and brighter.
The on-call doctor took the slip of paper, his voice rising several notches. "So that's how it works… We've tried gypenoside before, but always through IV injection. We never thought of sublingual administration."
He grew more excited the more he spoke, as if he'd just struck gold. "Ms. Wipere, can we use this formula in future cases? If it's effective, this could completely rewrite emergency department protocols!"
"You can." Lucinda nodded lightly. "But before using it, you should run a small-scale clinical validation. Dosage is related to individual constitution. You can't just copy it wholesale."
The nurse leaned in as well, quickly jotting down the key points of the massage technique Lucinda had just mentioned, murmuring to herself. "Warm palms, even pressure, start the circular motion from the manubrium…"
She looked up, her eyes shining. "Ms. Wipere, how long did it take you to learn this technique? Even our hospital director hasn't mastered the finer points of it."
Lucinda thought for a moment. "I just do whatever feels natural."
The nurse and the on-call doctor exchanged a glance, both seeing a kind of unspoken awe in the other's eyes.
Whatever feels natural could produce results like that?
How deeply would someone have to understand thoracic anatomy to pull that off?
Dahlia stood in the corner, watching the scene unfold. The smile on her face was barely holding together.
She watched the on-call doctor's expression—like he wanted to kneel and beg to be her apprentice on the spot—and felt a stone lodged in her chest, suffocating her.
Suddenly, she thought of something and opened her mouth again, her tone dripping with passive aggression.
"Lucinda really is amazing. She can even bring someone back from respiratory failure. But… when Lucinda said she had a way to wake Grandma up, wasn't she maybe being a little too hasty in trying to comfort Mom?"
"We all know Lucinda cares about Grandma. But Grandma's been in a coma for so long, and the doctor's diagnosis was crystal clear—it said the chances of her waking up were slim. Yet Lucinda sounded so certain… What if it doesn't happen? Mom will be even more heartbroken."
This time, everyone in the room caught the passive-aggressive tone in Dahlia's voice.
Lucinda frowned, but before she could speak, Manuel's voice cut in from the side. "If she says she can do it, she can do it. When have you ever seen Cindy talk big?"
Dahlia's smile froze for a moment. She didn't respond.
Valencia walked up to Lucinda and took her hand. "Cindy, do you really have a way to wake your grandmother up?"
Lucinda looked into Valencia's eyes—eyes full of hope—and nodded. "I know a renowned physician. His specialty is neurological recovery. Grandma's coma is mainly due to insufficient blood supply to the brain and long-term inflammatory responses that have suppressed her nervous system. With the right treatment, there's a real chance she'll regain consciousness. His treatment plan, conservatively speaking, should show significant improvement within a month."
Valencia's hand tightened sharply around Lucinda's fingers. "Really? One month?"
"Yes." Lucinda nodded, her voice firm.
Valencia quickly turned to Wesley, her voice trembling. "Wesley, did you hear that? Cindy says she can wake Mom up."
Wesley walked over and put his arm around his wife's shoulders, looking at Lucinda. "This renowned physician—how long have you known him? How much will it cost? The Douglas family will spare no expense."
Lucinda smiled and shook her head. "He's a friend of mine. He doesn't need money. For him, this kind of condition isn't complicated. A few cycles of treatment and she'll start showing results."
"No, no, that won't do." Valencia wiped the corners of her eyes, her tone unusually firm. "We can't let him work for nothing. Here's what we'll do—we'll give that physician one billion dollars as a thank-you fee. We'll also cover all the medical expenses separately. Tell him that as long as he can cure your grandmother, the Douglas family will cooperate fully."
Lucinda sighed.
If she weren't trying to keep her identity under wraps, she would've just admitted that she was the renowned physician—and she certainly didn't need her family giving her a billion dollars.
She wanted to refuse, but Valencia had already gripped her hand even tighter, the determination in her eyes leaving no room for argument.
Seeing that "if you don't take it, I'll be furious" look on her mother's face, Lucinda finally nodded. "Alright. I'll pass it along to him."
Dahlia stood in the corner. When she heard the words "one billion," the jealousy that had nearly bubbled to the surface was forcibly shoved back down.
She lowered her head, her gaze falling on Grandma's still-unconscious face, and a thought suddenly took root in her mind.
What if the renowned physician Lucinda brought in didn't cure Grandma—but made her condition worse instead?
What if there was a problem with the medicine? What if something went wrong during treatment?
Would Valencia still hold her, grip her hand, and look at her with such trust then?
At the thought, Dahlia's lips slowly curled upward once more.
'Lucinda… let's see how this plays out.'