Chapter214 Allergic Reaction
As night deepened, when Miranda drove back to the Prescott estate, her mind still carried lingering frustration.
The car slowly pulled in and stopped. She immediately saw a figure rush out from the living room, face full of anxiety and panic.
It was Arthur.
He didn't even notice Miranda's car, running out while pulling out his phone, his tone urgent as he shouted, "Quick! Get the doctor here fast."
Miranda frowned and walked straight into the living room.
The living room was empty, but from upstairs came Celeste's shrill, tearful voice.
"Isabella, don't pass out. The doctor will be here soon!"
Miranda's steps paused as she looked up toward the second floor.
Isabella was leaning against the bed, her skin covered with frightening red welts, her mouth open as she gasped for air.
Miranda's gaze lingered on Isabella's face for a moment before her steps halted.
It looked like Isabella was having an allergic reaction.
She hesitated for a few seconds but ultimately didn't go over. Withdrawing her gaze, she turned to head upstairs.
She remembered having allergy medication in the bedroom.
Celeste heard footsteps and looked toward the door, just in time to see Miranda's departing back.
"Look at Miranda!" Celeste pointed accusingly at Miranda to Clifton.
"Isabella is in this condition, and she's still a guest in our Prescott home. Miranda doesn't even ask what's wrong. So cold-hearted."
Clifton's gaze fell on Miranda's retreating figure for a moment before withdrawing.
Soon, the family doctor arrived with his medical kit.
Examination, medication, injection—after the full procedure, Isabella's breathing gradually stabilized, and the red welts on her skin visibly began to fade.
"It's acute allergic reaction. A few minutes later and throat swelling could have been dangerous." The doctor wiped sweat from his forehead, saying with lingering fear, "What is she allergic to?"
Arthur had also returned by now. Hearing the doctor's words, he immediately answered, "Peanuts! My sister is severely allergic to peanuts!"
He turned to Isabella, who had just recovered, asking urgently, "What did you eat today with peanuts in it?"
Isabella weakly shook her head, her voice severely hoarse. "Nothing. I know about my allergy. I'm always very careful. I didn't touch anything with peanuts today."
"That's strange." The doctor frowned. He picked up the coffee cup Isabella had been drinking from and sniffed it closely. His expression changed instantly. "The problem is here. Someone added peanut powder to this coffee."
That one sentence changed everyone's expressions.
Isabella's eyes widened. She looked at Arthur, tears instantly flowing. "Brother, my coffee powder is kept on the counter in the downstairs dining room. Today besides the household servants, only..."
She didn't finish her sentence, but her gaze meaningfully drifted toward the stairwell.
"Only Miranda went into the kitchen." Celeste immediately finished the sentence. "Brother, it must have been Miranda."
Hearing his sister's words, Arthur's blood rushed to his head, his eyes turning red.
He whirled toward Clifton, his gaze looking ready to devour someone.
"Clifton! You must give my sister an explanation for this!"
Clifton's expression turned cold, his tone completely flat.
"I trust Miranda."
He paused, his voice growing colder. "She wouldn't touch other people's things. Moreover, she had no idea your sister is allergic to peanuts."
These words made the furious Arthur pause for a moment.
That's right—Isabella's peanut allergy was something they hadn't told outsiders about.
At the Prescott estate, aside from themselves, no one should know.
How could Miranda possibly know so clearly?
Isabella noticed the scrutiny in Arthur and Clifton's eyes and panicked.
"Brother... Clifton..." She clutched the blanket, speaking with grievance and sadness. "Would I really use my own life to falsely accuse someone? Allergies can kill if you're not careful!"
This statement made Arthur's newly risen rationality drop again.
That's right—who would risk their own life as a joke!
Clifton's lips pressed into a straight line. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "I'll have someone investigate this matter thoroughly."
"Thank you, Clifton." Hearing this, Isabella coughed weakly twice and added, "I just suddenly remembered Miranda also went into the kitchen. I'm not saying it was definitely her... It could also be that a household servant accidentally mixed something up. Thank you for helping investigate."
Seeing his sister suffering like this yet still, because she liked Clifton, thinking of Miranda everywhere and making excuses for her, Arthur felt his heart twist with pain.
This heartache instantly transformed into deeper disgust and hatred toward Miranda.
He secretly clenched his back teeth, thinking that if the investigation revealed this was truly that woman's doing, he would absolutely, absolutely not let her off!
In the study.
Smoke curled through the air, the atmosphere oppressively suffocating.
Arthur sat across from Clifton, his eyes bloodshot, staring at him intently. "How do you plan to investigate?"
Clifton's fingertips held a cigarette, the scarlet glow flickering in the darkness.
He flicked the ash and spoke. "You trust your sister. I trust my wife."
Hearing this, Arthur's eyes reddened further. He shot up from the sofa. "Clifton! Wake up! A woman like that, a divorced woman—she's completely unworthy of you!"
Clifton slowly raised his eyes. Those unfathomably deep pupils instantly covered with a layer of terrifying frost.
"Arthur."
His voice was cold as ice. "Please respect my wife. Otherwise, take your sister and leave the Prescott estate."
Good breeding prevented him from directly telling this childhood friend to "get lost."
But Arthur clearly understood the undisguised expulsion in his words.
Arthur was furious, grinding out through clenched teeth, "This matter better not have been Miranda's doing! Otherwise, even if she's your wife, I absolutely won't let her off!"
With that, he refused to look at Clifton again, whirling around and leaving the study.
The loud slam of the door echoed through the study before quickly returning to silence.
Clifton's face showed no trace of anger.
He expressionlessly stubbed out the burnt cigarette in the ashtray, then turned his wheelchair to the desk and opened the computer.
The screen lit up, displaying not work documents from the company, but an encrypted email just received.
Opening the email revealed detailed intelligence.
A shipment of military weapons from unknown sources would be transported out of the country in three days through one of the Prescott family's secret shipping routes.
Clifton's gaze fell on the words "Prescott secret route," his lips slowly curving into a cold, bloodthirsty smile.
The big fish hiding deep within the Prescott family was finally about to take the bait.