The clock had been ticking for an hour and thirty minutes. No one had come out.
"What is happening there?" Margaret's voice was barely a whisper, as if she were afraid that speaking too loudly would break the fragile silence. "I thought it was just poison. Is it worse than I thought?"
She paced the small area of the hallway, her eyes red and swimming with unshed tears. The rest of the family had reached their breaking point. William stood with his forehead pressed against the wall, his fists balled so tight his knuckles were white. Veronica and Harlan sat in a heavy, suffocating silence, while Mark leaned back on the couch, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he stared at the ceiling.
Elena was the closest to the door. She stood perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the door. Alexander turned from the wall and had eyes searching everyone. He step forward.
"Even if it's a death sentence," he said, his voice cutting through the tension, "they should have come out by now." then he stepped towards the room.
The relatives looked up at once. This time, the anger was gone, replaced by a desperate, hollow curiosity. Even Margaret, who had spent the morning cursing him, let her hand drop slowly to her side, after she made an attempt to stop him from going inside.
"He's right," William said, his voice gravelly. "We need to know. My gut has never trusted that boy Drake, not for a second."
A murmur of agreement went through the room. The tension shifted, like as if they are now waiting for disaster to come.
"Dad, stop," Harlan snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "Drake is a good man."
"Harlan is right," Veronica added quickly, her protective instincts kicking in. "We know he's after your daughter and thirty percent of the company, but that doesn't mean he wants Grandpa dead."
Margaret turned her sharp gaze on Harlan. "Harlan... how exactly do you know Drake? What is your business with him?"
The question hung in the air like a weight. Harlan's heart hammered against his ribs. His eyes shifted toward the floor, unable to find a steady lie. Veronica cut in instantly."Are you blaming Harlan now? Since Grandpa fell ill, what has anyone else done? He is the only one acting like a true son of this house!"
"Yes!" Harlan shouted, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and rage. "I'm tired of being the villain in this house!" He turned his face away, his breath coming in ragged hitches as Veronica placed a hand on his back.
At the bedroom door, Elena spun around as Alexander approached. She was biting her thumbnail, her other hand clutched tightly against her stomach. "What are you doing here?" she hissed, though there was more fear than anger in her voice.
Alexander didn't answer. He just looked at the door. "Pacing won't change anything," he said. "Let's see what's happening."
Elena hesitated, then stepped aside. Alexander gripped the handle and turned. It was locked. He hammered his fist against the wood once, twice. Elena joined him, calling out "let me see my grandpa."
Inside, the sound of the banging made Dr. Zhou Fen freeze. "They're here," he whispered, his face pale. "Drake, we've run out of time. What should we do now?"
But he just waved to him to open the door and he continued pacing.
You mean I should open… Zhou Fen said.
Drake didn't say a word. He stepped forward, his hand snapping around Zhou Fen's neck in a silent, terrifying grip. "Are you deaf?" he whispered, his eyes cold. He shoved the doctor toward the door and resumed his pacing, his face a mask of indifference.
The door swung open. The family surged inside, a chaotic wave of calls of "Dad!" and "Grandpa!" But as they reached the bed, the noise died.
Robert lay perfectly still. His chest wasn't moving.
"Young man," William said, his voice trembling as he faced Drake. "Tell me what's going on. You said he would be saved."
Just before that question could settled, Margaret lunged at Dr. Zhou Fen, her fingers locking into his coat. "Why is he like this? Why isn't he moving?" she wailed, shaking him with a strength born of pure grief.
Margaret released her grip on Zhou Fen and lunged toward Drake. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, shaking him with a desperate, frantic strength. "What did you do with my trust?" she wailed, her voice breaking. "I thought you said your doctor could save him!
In the corner, Harlan's knees buckled. He slid down the wall until he hit the floor. The plan had been simple—Robert was supposed to sleep, Drake was supposed to "save" him, and Harlan was supposed to get his share. He never intended for his grandfather to actually die.
Dr. Zhou Fen stepped forward, reaching out to pry Margaret's fingers from Drake's jacket. "Madam, let go," he urged, his voice devoid of any real sympathy. "It isn't our fault. I already made it clear that he wouldn't survive past noon."
"Exactly," Drake added, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. He didn't even flinch at Margaret's touch. "We did what we could, but for the poison? Blame yourselves. You all killed him while you wasted time arguing over his inheritance. His life didn't matter to any of you, only his money did."
A sharp slap cracked across Drake's face before he could utter another word.
The room went deathly silent. Every eye turned to him as he slowly reached up, his fingers tracing the reddening skin of his cheek. For a moment, he didn't move. Then, a slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, a look that held no warmth, only malice.
Without a word of warning, Drake struck back.
The force of his hand hitting Margaret's face sent a shockwave through the room. A collective gasp erupted as she staggered back, clutching her cheek in disbelief.
Alexander's muscles tensed. He had seen the blow coming, his body instinctively coiled to intervene, but he forced himself to stay still. He knew that for his move to matter, the family first had to see Drake for exactly who he was.
Elena slowly raised her head, her gaze fixed on her grandmother. She watched, almost in a daze, as the others hurried to Margaret's side. They guided the older woman toward a corner of the room, away from Drake. Margaret looked smaller than she ever had, her hand still pressed against her bruised cheek in stunned disbelief.
"Let me be clear," Drake said, casually slipping his hands into his pockets as if nothing had happened. "Dead or not, the deal is signed. Thirty percent is already mine."
He turned his gaze toward Elena, slowly raising a finger to point directly at her. His eyes were cold, devoid of any guilt. "And even she belongs to me now. Don't make me use force, if not, you won't blame me for what happened after."
"What else do you want?"
Elena's voice broke the heavy silence. It wasn't just a shout; it was a sound of pure heartbreak and anger. She stayed right there by the bed, her body shaking so hard the mattress moved. She held onto the sheets with all her remaining strength.
"You couldn't save him!" she sobbed, her breath catching in her throat. "he was right here, and you just watched him slip away! You did nothing! Get out of this house! Just get out!"
Nadia couldn't bear to see her friend like this. Elena was exhausting herself, her body shaking from the force of her own screams. Nadia stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Elena, please... it's okay. Please, just breathe," she whispered, trying to pull her friend back from the edge.
Alexander watched them, feeling the weight of Elena's agony. His gaze moved from her tear-stained face to Robert's still body on the bed.
"And who told you all that Robert is dead?" Alexander's voice was low, but it cut through the sobbing like a ray of light. "He can still be saved."
Before, his words had sounded arrogant to them. But now, in the middle of their grief, his voice triggered a tiny spark of hope. It was the only thing they wanted to hear, even if it seemed impossible. Every heart in the room suddenly stood still, longing for a miracle.
"What do you mean?" Margaret asked, her voice trembling as she looked up from her chair.
"Young man... what did you just say?" William stepped forward, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and desperation.
"This is a serious matter," Mark added, his voice hushed. "It isn't something you should joke about."
Nadia shook her head, leaning in close to Elena. Her voice was a low, hurried whisper, filled with disbelief.
"Not again," Nadia said, her eyes fixed on Alexander. "This man is so arrogant. Does he even know what it means to be a bodyguard? Just look at him, Elena—he doesn't even know his own job description. He's supposed to protect you, not play God with a dead man."
Elena looked at Alexander. She remembered everything he had told her since the moment they met, the confidence in his voice, the way he never wavered. She wished she had trusted him sooner. She wished she had given him a chance before the heartbeat stopped. But now, looking at her grandfather's pale face, she felt it was too late. To her, Alexander was just a kind man refusing to give up, even though everything was already lost.
Alexander stepped toward the bed, his eyes scanning Robert's pale face. "This is Shadow-Vine Poison," he said, his voice steady and calm. "It is a silent killer. It moves slowly, eating away at the organs one by one until there is nothing left to fight with."
The room went still. Alexander wasn't just guessing; he was describing the toxin with a precision that felt divine.
"This isn't a common poison you find on the street," he continued, looking around at the stunned family. "It is a weapon used by those in high places—people who are hungry for power and don't want to leave a trace. Once it's in the blood, only the person who knows the exact formula can stop it. Or," he paused, his gaze landing on the medical kit, "someone with the right needle technique. At this moment, Robert is standing at the very gates of the land of the dead."
Everyone was frozen. Elena and Nadia watched him, their breath catching in their chests. He sounded like a god of medicine, speaking truths that no one else dared to say.
Even Dr. Zhou Fen couldn't hide his shock. "Kid... I have to admit, I'm impressed. You have real skill. If you studied hard and followed a master like me, your future would be limitless."
Drake let out a harsh, mocking laugh, trying to break the spell Alexander had cast over the room. "So what? So what if he knows the name of the poison? Can he bring a dead man back to life? That's all that matters now."
Alexander looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Only the Eighteen Needle Technique can pull him back now. But as you know, that art was lost two thousand years ago."
"I'm glad you know the history," Drake sneered. "But what is the point of talking about myths? He's gone."
Alexander let out a quiet, low laugh. It wasn't a laugh of joy, but of absolute confidence. "You can count on me," he said simply.
"You—what do you mean by that?" Drake gasped, his face twisting in confusion.
A wave of shock moved through the room. Everyone stood breathless, unable to believe what they were hearing.
Elena leaned forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She reached out and took Alexander's hand, her fingers trembling. "Can you really... can you really bring the dead back to life?"
Alexander looked down at her. For a brief second, his cold eyes softened. He smiled and tapped her hand gently, a gesture of quiet comfort.
"Trust me," he said.