"You aren't even human!"
Amanda shouted hysterically, her hands slamming against Javier's chest with frantic strength. Startled by her uncharacteristic outburst, Quentin surged forward and pulled her into his arms.
"Amanda! What's wrong?"
As he held her, he realized her entire body was convulsing with tremors. He tightened his grip, his voice thick with worry. "Amanda, tell me what happened!"
Amanda opened her mouth, but the words were trapped in her throat. Bitter tears spilled over, falling onto Quentin's arm with a heat that seemed to burn his skin. This was the second time he had seen her weep with such raw agony, and it felt as though an invisible hand were squeezing his own heart.
"It's okay. I'm here. Don't be afraid," he whispered, stroking her hair.
"What an uneducated girl! To rush in here and attack someone without reason!" Tiffany Harris, finally recovering from her shock, saw her son being struck and lunged forward to pull Amanda away.
Dylan Harris was faster, catching his wife by the shoulder. "Shut up!" he hissed.
"You're yelling at me? Your own son was just beaten, and you're still defending that little bastard born to Milena!"
The room dissolved into chaos, a whirlwind of accusations and screams. Only Javier remained eerily silent. He raised a hand to touch his stinging cheek, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Amanda with a predatory intensity.
The door swung open as the doctor walked in. He took one look at the scene and frowned deeply. "Please, maintain order. The patient needs rest. Since the results are back, I'd like the family representatives to join me in my office."
Amanda's sobs subsided into a cold, focused anger. Still clutching Quentin's hand, she said sharply, "Only the two of us will go with the doctor. The rest of you stay here."
Tiffany Harris rolled her eyes. "And who are you to give orders?"
She met Quentin's razor-sharp gaze and immediately went silent. "Because she is my wife," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "The Matriarch of the Harris family." He turned to Dylan Harris. "Control your wife and son before you worry about your father."
Mentioning his failure to manage his own household was Dylan's greatest shame; he went silent, his grip on Tiffany's arm tightening until she winced.
Quentin ignored Javier entirely, leading Amanda out of the room. As they left, Javier didn't stay a second longer. He slipped away to a deserted corner of the hospital and dialed a number.
"Victor. Deal with Clark."
Amanda's reaction had been too specific. He guessed she had discovered something—but how? How could she possibly suspect that the Chairman's collapse was anything other than stress? Interesting, he thought with a dark smile.
In the doctor's office, the air turned frigid as the physician spoke.
"The test results show that Mr. Harris has been exposed to a chronic poison. It causes the internal organs to slowly fail over time."
Silence—terrifying and absolute—filled the room. Amanda closed her eyes, and Quentin's face turned ashen. "Doctor, explain," Quentin commanded.
The doctor handed him the report. "We are still running tests to identify the specific toxin, but the data suggests it was administered in small, daily doses. Given his age, the symptoms manifested more quickly than they would have in a younger person."
Quentin's pupils dilated, his fingers crushing the paper in his hand. Someone close to his father had been poisoning him, bit by bit, every single day. A chill ran down his spine. If he hadn't purged the company when he did—if he hadn't pushed his father into the hospital sooner—the old man might have simply died in his sleep.
"Is there an antidote?" Quentin asked hoarsely.
"The toxicity hasn't reached a fatal level yet. With meticulous treatment, he should recover. However, to fully eliminate the root cause, we need to identify the exact poison used."
Quentin nodded. "Save him. I will find that poison as soon as possible."
As they left the office, Quentin looked so haunted that Amanda squeezed his hand to ground him. He looked down at their joined hands and whispered, "I've been so blind. I didn't notice anything was wrong. I failed to protect him."
"It's not your fault," Amanda said, her voice trembling with conviction. "It's Javier."
Quentin stopped in his tracks. "What did you say?"
"The person who poisoned Dad was Javier. He must have an inside man. Call Butler Wayne—he might know something."
Quentin had a thousand questions, but the urgency in her eyes stopped him. He dialed Butler Wayne, who had been stationed at the main house since the New Year.
"Butler Wayne," Quentin said as soon as the man picked up. "Think carefully. Is there anyone new at the house? Has my father been acting strangely, or consuming anything unusual lately?"
The butler paused, his voice thoughtful. "The Chairman has been fine, though... he did become quite fond of the tea brewed by my nephew. I told him he was drinking too much of it, but he wouldn't listen."
Amanda's brow furrowed. She searched her memories of her previous life. Butler Wayne's nephew... Clark. A man with a massive gambling debt.
"Where is your nephew now?" Amanda shouted into the phone.
"Oh, he left last night and hasn't come back yet," the butler replied.
Amanda's face went white. She looked at Quentin in a panic. He didn't need her to explain; he had already put the pieces together.
"Wayne," Quentin said, his voice like ice. "The moment he returns, have him detained. Don't let him out of your sight. I'm coming over right now."
He hung up before the confused butler could ask a single question.