"Young master, the madam’s illness has flared up again..."
Ella, his mother, had long suffered from pulmonary blebs. The condition often left her writhing in pain and robbed her of sleep. Hearing that his mother was in agony once more, Jaxon grabbed Arabelle and hurried upstairs.
As soon as they pushed open the door, they found Ella curled up in bed, groaning in pain.
"Mom, Arabelle’s here! Her medical skills are top-notch. She’ll help ease your pain!"
But Ella cried out in distress, "Where’s Liora? Why isn’t that girl here?"
"Mom, she’s already gone to the Montgomerys."
"That damn girl! After everything our family did for her! Good riddance! I’ve got Arabelle now, and I don’t need her to take care of me!"
Arabelle glanced at the medical record and felt a pang of guilt. Pulmonary blebs? She had never even heard of it. Still, she forced a calm smile and said, “Don’t worry, Aunt Ella. I’ll get you some medicine.”
She hurried downstairs, rummaged through her bag, and pulled out two ibuprofen tablets. Handing them to the maid, she said, “This is special medication I brought back from abroad. Give these to Aunt Ella. I have something to take care of, so I’ll leave first.”
Upstairs, Jaxon watched with relief as his mother finally drifted into sleep after taking the pills. His heart settled. Thankfully, they had Arabelle now; Liora was nothing worth remembering.
A woman who couldn’t even compare to a maid had no place standing beside someone like Arabelle.
What they didn’t realize was that Ella was allergic to ibuprofen.
On the other side, I followed Tessa into a secluded courtyard. The air was still, the surroundings calm, and it was an ideal place for recovery.
As we pushed open the door, a slender figure came into view. Medical equipment surrounded him, and several private nurses moved quietly around the room.
Rigel’s skin was so pale that the blue of his veins peeked through, undoubtedly from years spent away from sunlight. His features were striking and sharp, like a sculpture chiseled in silence. With his eyes closed, the sharpness of his brows and the intensity of his gaze had softened into peace.
At an age when he should have been vibrant and alive, he had instead spent years trapped in a silent slumber.