Chapter 32
Diana's face went deathly pale. Her lips trembled, her voice shaking. "I... I was trying to help Uncle Hayden! Vaughn told me this medication would help Uncle Hayden recover faster. He said it was a cutting-edge treatment—looks scary but is actually good for the body—"
"Cutting-edge treatment?" Lucinda cut her off, her voice turning cold. "Mr. Lancaster's condition required aggressive treatment during the emergency phase, but he's already past that. He's in the recovery phase now. The medication your boyfriend used is not only prohibited, but dangerously potent. Mr. Lancaster's current condition couldn't handle it. Even if he could, he'd develop a dependency."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over Vaughn's now bloodless face. "Once you're hooked, you can't quit for the rest of your life."
The room fell into a terrible silence.
Hayden leaned against the headboard, his lips still trembling.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were filled with pain. "Diana, how could you—"
"Uncle Hayden, I didn't mean to!" Diana's tears spilled out instantly. She rushed to the bedside and grabbed Hayden's hand. "I really didn't know! I was tricked! Vaughn said he was a lead physician. He said this medication worked well—"
"Lead physician?" Hayden's voice was hoarse. "Since when does this nursing home have this kind of person as a lead physician?"
Reginald stood by the window, his face dark.
He pulled out his phone and dialed. His voice was hard and cold. "Look into how this Vaughn got into the nursing home. The Lancaster family is a top-tier VIP here. How could such a mistake happen?"
The person on the other end was clearly rattled by his tone and quickly agreed.
Vaughn's legs gave out completely. He had to brace himself against the wall to keep from collapsing.
Diana knelt by the bed, sobbing so hard her makeup ran. "Uncle Hayden, Reginald, please believe me—I really didn't know. I was trying to help Uncle Hayden. I meant well—"
Lucinda stood nearby, watching the scene unfold. Her expression remained unchanged, but the temperature in her eyes had dropped to freezing.
This place—she'd built it from the ground up. Every single medical staff member had been personally vetted and screened by her.
Now not only had someone slipped a fake doctor in through the back door, but they'd brought in prohibited drugs and nearly killed a patient.
It was time for a thorough cleanup.
Soon, Diana and Vaughn were "escorted" out of the room.
Vaughn's legs were so weak he could barely walk. Two security guards had to drag him out, his gold-rimmed glasses askew on his nose, utterly humiliated.
Diana followed behind, makeup streaking down her face, still crying out, "I really didn't know!" Her voice grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared down the corridor.
The room finally fell quiet.
Hayden leaned back against the pillow, his face still pale but his breathing steady.
He watched Lucinda's back as she tidied up the medication bottles, his eyes reddening slightly, his voice hoarse. "Young lady, you saved me again."
Lucinda turned around, her tone flat. "Rest well. Don't take any more random medications."
Hayden nodded, his gaze resting on her face. After a long moment, he suddenly smiled.
He was more and more pleased with this future daughter-in-law.
He turned to look at Reginald, signaling with his eyes: 'What are you still standing there for? Go see her out.'
Reginald caught his father's look, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
He said nothing, but his feet were already moving toward the door.
Hayden watched his retreating back, then glanced at Lucinda, unable to resist adding, "You little punk, treat her well."
After a pause, he added, "This daughter-in-law—I've decided on her."
Reginald's steps paused. He glanced back at his father.
Hayden was leaning against the pillow, smile lines deep around his mouth, wearing a smug expression that said, 'Finally, you came to your senses.'
Reginald didn't deny it. He withdrew his gaze and pushed through the door.
Hayden lay alone in bed, thinking it over and over, unable to suppress his laughter.
He rolled onto his side, pulled the blanket up higher, muttering to himself. "That guy—I introduced him to so many socialites before, and he turned them all down. I thought he'd stay single forever. Turns out he just hadn't met the right person yet."
He closed his eyes, the smile on his lips impossible to suppress.
In the corridor, Lucinda walked a short distance before stopping.
She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
It rang twice before someone answered.
"Ms. Wipere." The voice on the other end was respectful, tinged with nervousness.
"Martin." Lucinda's tone was flat. "You know about today's incident?"
The voice of Director Martin Collins immediately tightened. "I do. Mr. Lancaster already briefed me. That Vaughn—I've looked into it. He's not one of our nursing home doctors at all. He was forced in through connections by Ms. Lancaster. The nurses thought he'd been approved, so they didn't dare stop him—"
"I don't want excuses." Lucinda cut him off. "Find out how many more people like him are here, how they got in, and who approved them. Clear out whoever needs clearing. Handle whoever needs handling. This can't happen again."
Silence on the other end for a moment, then Martin's solemn voice came through. "Understood. I'll investigate immediately and give you a full account."
Lucinda acknowledged him and hung up.
She stood in the corridor, looking down at the ring in her hand.
The deep blue gemstone gleamed with a profound luster in the sunlight—heavy, carrying the warmth of years gone by.
She slipped the ring into her pocket and turned to walk toward the other end of the corridor.
Her grandmother's room was on the seventh floor. She needed to check on her.
She'd just reached the corner when she heard voices ahead.
Not loud, but in the quiet corridor, they were unmistakable.
"You old hag, still pretending to sleep. If you're really this frail, why don't you just die already!"
Lucinda's steps froze.
That voice—she knew it all too well.
Gemma.
Lucinda stood at the doorway, peering through the crack.
Inside the room, Gemma sat by the bed, clutching several documents, her face twisted almost beyond recognition.
Preston stood behind her. The two of them were busy around the bed.
"Hurry up. Stop dragging your feet." Preston lowered his voice, his gaze darting warily toward the door.
Gemma ignored him, looking down at the unconscious old woman on the bed. Her eyes held not a trace of warmth.
She spread out the documents in her hand and pressed them beside Cleo's fingers. She took the damp cloth Preston handed her and carefully wiped Cleo's thumb.
"This old fool, her brain's completely useless now."
Gemma muttered as she wiped, her tone sharp as a blade. "I'm your biological daughter. Allegra is your biological granddaughter. And you? You have all those houses and assets, but instead of leaving them to me, you want to leave them to Lucinda—that outsider!"