Chapter 1711

[ 569 words ]

“We need to examine the patient first.”

Tandy’s demand was perfectly logical.

Mr. Charles appreciated their lack of greedy desperation.

It proved the old man was a true professional who prioritized medicine over money.

Maybe, just maybe, they really could save his grandson.

“Excellent. Follow me, I’ll take you to him.”

The Patriarch’s youngest grandson was Lucas Charles.

Claire and Tandy were led into his heavily guarded quarters.

The eighteen-year-old boy possessed a sickly, translucent complexion, looking as if

he had been locked in a damp, sunless cave his entire life.

Stripped of any hope of ever walking again, his personality had turned utterly toxic.

When they walked in, Lucas was in the middle of a violent meltdown.

“I said I’m not eating! Are you all deaf?!”

“Get out! Get the hell out of my room!”

Mr. Charles didn’t look angry, only deeply pained.

“What happened here?”

He directed the question at the terrified maid scrambling to clean up shattered porcelain.

The maid, acting as Lucas’s primary caretaker, was kneeling on the floor, her knees bleeding from the broken glass, yet she didn’t dare make a sound.

A middle-aged attendant was desperately trying to coax the boy to eat.

“Lucas, please, just a few bites. The Patriarch is worried sick about you. He even

flew in elite doctors from Solenia to examine you.”

“What’s the point?! Looking at me won’t fix my spine!”

Lucas gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his knuckles white and trembling with pathetic rage.

He lowered his eyes. “Tell my grandfather to stop wasting his time. I’m already a useless cripple.”

A useless cripple devoid of dignity, utterly unworthy of life.

“Nonsense Mr. Charles barked,

forward. “You are my

greatest treasure. You are my staff. You will never

be usefucky

“I promise you, no matter the cost, I will find a way to heal you.”

Mr. Charles’s love for the boy was absolute and pure.

Lucas was the sole surviving bloodline of his favorite wife and his most beloved son.

His wife had died for him, and his son had died for him. How could he not cherish their final legacy?

“What good is paying the cost?”

“No surgeon on earth will touch my spine now.”

Lucas despised being born into the Charles empire. He had been raised in a viper’s

nest of paranoia and assassination plots.

He had to thoroughly inspect every meal for poison.

Simply because he was the

Patriarch’s favorite, he had inherited a massive fortune at birth, immediately painting a target of his back from every jealous sibling and cousin.

“Look, I’ve brought you two brilliant doctors. Maybe they have the answer.”

“They dragged a man back from the brink of death after a catastrophic explosion. They can definitely help you.”

Mr. Charles had received this exact intel directly from Gloria’s leaked communications.

So he knew exactly who Claire and Tandy were.

The fact that this duo had pulled off a miracle surgery in a warzone filled him with immense hope.

He didn’t care about their politics; if they could save his grandson, they were saints.

“I don’t believe you. Grandpa, you’re being conned.”

He glared at Claire and Tandy. “Look at them! One is a dinosaur whose hands probably shake too much to hold a scalpel, and the other is a child who probably can’t ev identify a major artery.

“They’re just here to steal your money.”

“Or worse, you hired them to give me false hope.”

“I’d rather starve to death right now!”

Lucas had completely surrendered to his despair, aggressively refusing any medical intervention.

Having been butchered by incompetent surgeons before, he had zero faith in a miraculous recovery.

Neither Claire nor Tandy took the teenager’s venomous insults personally.

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