Chapter 878
Chapter 878:
This was exactly the message Vivian had ordered him to post. They desperately needed someone to throw under the bus, and her poor caregiver was the perfect scapegoat. Johnny felt sick to his stomach as he hit send, but he was too terrified to refuse. He knew that if he didn’t follow orders, he’d be the next person Vivian destroyed. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. If Vivian could sacrifice an innocent caregiver today without any guilt, who might she come for tomorrow? Johnny was too scared to even think about the answer.
The response from Vivian’s fans was immediate and terrifying.
“Oh my god, you’re absolutely right! The more I think about this, the more horrifying it gets. What if Vivian has been trying to send us distress signals this whole time p>
“We have to help Vivian! She’s in real danger p>
“That caregiver works at Vivian Floral Design! We need to go there right now and save Vivian p>
Back at the hospital, Eugene walked into the office, where the Watson family had gathered for answers. Derek sat rigid in his chair, his weathered face carved with deep worry lines. Norma perched on the edge of her seat, her hands twisted together in her lap. Babette stood near the window, practically vibrating with barely contained rage.
“Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson, Miss Watson,” Eugene said formally, giving each of them a respectful nod.
Babette shot him a look that could have melted steel. She was convinced that Eugene, after working closely with Millie for so many years, would naturally take her side in everything. But with her grandparents watching every word, she forced herself to stay quiet and swallow her accusations.
“Eugene,” Derek’s voice cut through the tense silence like a blade. “I need you to tell me exactly what is happening to Brandon p>
“I’m not the right person to explain the medical details,” Eugene replied carefully. “Let me get the doctor in here to give you the full picture p>
𝗧𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 gⱯ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀．ⅽ𝗼𝗺
He stepped out briefly and returned with a doctor in a crisp white coat, carrying a thick file of medical records that detailed everything—the vomiting blood, the blunt force trauma, and the leg injury that hadn’t healed properly.
“What am I looking at here?” Derek asked, his forehead creasing as he tried to make sense of the medical jargon.
The doctor explained, “The blood he’s been vomiting comes from severe emotional stress that obviously makes his chronic stomach problems much worse. As for the physical injuries, they look scary, but they’re mostly superficial.” He added that with proper treatment, all conditions were manageable.
Derek placed the file back on the desk and met the doctor’s gaze. “It’s more than just his physical health,” he said, his voice firm. “When we tried talking to him just now, it was like he wasn’t even there. He barely responded to anything we said p>
Babette gave a quiet nod.
The doctor exhaled slowly, the weight of his next words hanging in the air. “I think we’re going to need to bring in a psychiatrist for an evaluation,” he said quietly.
The words hit the room like a bomb going off. Complete silence followed as everyone exchanged meaningful looks, each person understanding the serious implications of what the doctor was suggesting, but nobody wanted to be the first to say it out loud.
Meanwhile, across town, Vivian’s most rabid fans had completely lost their minds. They had surrounded the Vivian Floral Design studio like an angry mob, waving their phones in the air just like their idol always did, livestreaming their “heroic mission” to capture the evil caregiver and save their precious Vivian.