Chapter 28 Doyle's Student is Me
Amelia glared at me with venom, then suddenly changed her expression the next second, sobbing softly: "Lucas, you weren't like this before. Have you changed your heart?"
Her big eyes stared unblinkingly, filled with moist tears as she looked at Lucas pitifully. Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving clear tracks—pitiful but not ugly.
She cried as beautifully as an actress in a TV drama. Thinking of myself, when I cried once, I was told I looked like a goldfish. Maybe I should sign up for some acting classe,s too?
Lucas let go of her hand, avoiding her questioning: "Go home and calm down first. If you don't have evidence about Byron, don't slander Bella."
He had someone take Amelia home. Amelia didn't make a fuss, just kept looking back every few steps, like an abandoned animal, silently expressing her unwillingness to Lucas with her wet eyes.
Lucas forced himself to look away, frowning deeply, clearly in a bad mood.
I felt bored inside, but still kept up the act: "You're just letting her go like that? Not going to comfort her? I only came to talk about security. We can do this another day, or chat over the phone."
"She's already gone. It's too late for you to say this now," Lucas said coldly.
I cursed him as a jerk in my heart—a few days ago, he couldn't stop kissing me, and today he's acting like this!
But I didn't argue with him. Amelia's "silent grievance" trick just now seemed pretty effective. I'd try copying her.
I stayed quiet, and sure enough, Lucas felt uncomfortable. He softened his tone: "Let's sit down and talk. Do you know anything about Byron's situation?"
He was quietly observing my expression. I knew this meant Lucas was suspicious of me, testing me.
"I know a little," I lied calmly. "I only found out when Amelia mentioned it. I asked Gale and Marcus—it wasn't them. When Byron was attacked, they were at my fiancé's house."
Lucas froze: "Fiancé!"
I asked, confused: "Why are you so surprised? After we divorce, you'll marry Amelia, so of course I'll remarry someone too."
Lucas's face darkened, his mood several times worse than before, as if he couldn't accept the fact that I would marry another man.
He laughed bitterly and asked me, "Then why are you still seducing me? What kind of relationship is this between us!"
I laughed too. What right did Lucas have to question me?
"Of course, it's a relationship of mutual use and pretense. You said it yourself—how did you forget?"
Lucas clenched his jaw. My scalp tightened, sensing some danger. I quickly changed the subject: "What did Amelia come to see you about?"
I guessed Amelia wanted Lucas to investigate my brothers and me, but Lucas said, "She wants to find a doctor for Byron."
I listened curiously.
"Do you know about the medical expert Doyle Cunningham and his students?" Lucas said.
"Doyle was skilled in medicine and pharmacology. People with terminal illnesses could live ten more years after their treatment, and elderly people following their prescriptions could look years younger."
Lucas continued: "There are many legends about Doyle. He came from a medical family and honed his skills on the battlefield as a youth, saving tens of thousands of people. A few years ago, he died accidentally while testing a new drug he'd mixed himself, but many say it wasn't an accident. He'd treated many powerful people and knew too many secrets he shouldn't have known, so he might have been secretly assassinated—the only person who knows the truth is probably Doyle's student."
Yes, that's me.
But Doyle wasn't assassinated, nor did he die accidentally. He "committed suicide."
Doyle had traveled far and wide since childhood. He cured many people, but his own body carried many injuries that couldn't heal.
At 89, Doyle was diagnosed with brain cancer. Each episode was so painful that he'd roll on the ground. Painkillers didn't work, surgery was high-risk, and the side effect was becoming mentally impaired.
Doyle couldn't accept becoming an idiot, so he invented a "sleeping pill." Once a headache hit, one pill would let him fall into pleasant dreams, forget the pain, and sleep peacefully for days.
This drug, similar to a hallucinogen, was toxic and addictive, but what Doyle wanted was to die in his sleep—painless, carefree, and happy.
In the end, Doyle did die from this drug.
Lucas continued: "Doyle's last student supposedly inherited all his skills, and is even better than Doyle, known as the 'Miracle Surgeon.' Six years ago, Miracle Surgeon went to provide medical aid on the battlefield. About a year later, he disappeared from the battlefield. Many guess he's already dead."
I pursed my lips. I'm not dead—I just can't hold a scalpel anymore, wasting all the skills Doyle taught me.
"Bella?" Lucas looked at me. "You don't look well."
"Just remembered something." I pushed the flood of memories back down and asked: "What does this have to do with Amelia? Does she want to find the Miracle Surgeon?"
"Many people want to find the Miracle Surgeon. So many have spent great effort without success. It would be even harder for Amelia." Lucas said objectively and calmly. "Recently, there's been news that Roger Kingsley, a doctor as renowned as Doyle, will appear at the Silver Eagle Auctions. He's one of the auction items."
"That cunning old man got sold?" I was shocked!
"You know Roger?" Lucas was somewhat surprised. My tone when mentioning Roger seemed too familiar.
I shook my head in denial: "I don't know him. I've just heard he's a cunning, crafty person with a strange temper."
I really haven't met Roger, but I heard from Doyle that he's a strange genius with many wild ideas, but his technical skills can't keep up, and he's especially poor, so those ideas remain just fantasies.
In fact, the drug that sent Doyle into death's embrace was modified from one of Roger's half-finished products.
"Roger wasn't sold by someone else—he sold himself." Lucas was a bit thirsty, his eyes signaling me to make him coffee.
I knew Lucas's taste. While making coffee, I took out a separate container of sugar cubes for him.
I drink coffee without sugar. Lucas added one sugar cube, took a sip, sighed comfortably, then continued: "Roger has made countless enemies over his many years in practice. His treatment methods are bold and cutting-edge, with a 50-50 split between death rate and survival rate. Because he's often hunted, his escape and disguise abilities are said to be even better than his medical skills. This time, he provoked the four major families of Teryndor. They hired over a dozen waves of assassins to kill him. With nowhere to run, Roger sold himself to Silver Eagle Auctions. Those assassins are wary of Silver Eagle Auctions' powerful background and don't dare make a move on Roger for now."
"So it won't be easy for Amelia to win Roger at auction!" My eyes rolled around—I'd developed a strong interest in this auction.
"Are you taking Amelia to the auction?" I suddenly realized.
"Yes." Lucas nodded.
I felt a bit uncomfortable. Lucas was really too good to Amelia.
I acted casual, checked the time, and prepared to leave.
Just as I stood up, Lucas grabbed my hand and explained: "I want to buy Roger, not for Amelia, but for Grandfather."
"What's wrong with Grandfather?" Thinking of that kind old man, I quickly asked.
"Stomach cancer, already mid-stage." Lucas's brow was clouded with worry, and he spoke somewhat wearily.