Chapter 399
Odalys's fingers trembled; her eyes were filled with panic. "Percival, are you feeling unwell? Is your heart racing?"
Percival, flustered and at a loss, watched her. He closed his hand around hers. "I just feel a little discomfort. I'll be fine after some rest at home."
Ever since the Lark family declared he only had a month to live, he had been preparing for death. Odalys's presence had alleviated his symptoms, sparing him from the worst of the illness—enough for him. He didn't demand a cure.
Once a virus invades the body and integrates with the blood, eradication is virtually impossible.
"Let's go home," Percival said in a deep voice. He clasped her wrist tightly and strode toward the Stewart mansion with heavy steps.
The scent of fireworks lingered in the courtyard; bright red rose petals scattered on the ground, silently whispering that tonight was real. The surprise was real; the unexpected, too.
Odalys remained silent until Percival opened the bedroom door for her.
"Get some rest," he said. He escorted her to her room and closed the door behind him.
Odalys glanced around her familiar bedroom, at the hundred roses arranged in a vase. The rose Percival gave her was deliberately placed higher, announcing its identity. She stood there, staring blankly.
Doubt clouded her as she muttered, "Percival's pulse was normal just now, but his expression was that of a terminally ill patient. I used thunderwood to draw lightning and dispel the negative energy from his body. If nothing goes wrong, his condition should improve, and with the right medicine, it can be cured. How could it worsen so suddenly? What went wrong?"
She had always been confident in her medical skills and had never made a mistake. But Percival's expression clearly indicated his illness was worsening. The key was that there was no problem with his heartbeat. Odalys dug her fingertips into her palms.
The Stewart family's vigorous and joyous birthday celebration surprised her, as did Percival's condition. Turning around, she accidentally bumped a table, sending gold bars tumbling to the floor.
Odalys saw that the table was covered with piles of gold bars, arranged to spell out her name. A note appeared before her: "[Odalys, happy birthday]," the handwriting bold and unrestrained—Percival's. She hadn't realized his gift wasn't the white rose, but these gold bars spelling her name.
Odalys held her breath. She stood for a long time, looking at the dark night sky, as if making a decision. After showering, she changed into casual black clothes, grabbed her canvas bag, and strode away without looking back.
Percival stumbled into the study as the door closed. Blood spurted from his mouth. He reached for the armrest of a nearby sofa to steady himself, then wiped the blood from his mouth.
Orson stepped forward, concern etched on his face. "The poison in your body is overwhelming. Are you really not going to tell Odalys?"
Chapter 399
Percival's magnetic voice calmly articulated his thoughts: "I don't want to be her burden. I know my condition, and I don't want to put her at risk again. Last time, she used thunderwood to attract lightning, dispel negative energy, and forcibly suppress the poison in my body. I've consulted ancient texts and discovered that forcibly drawing on lightning's power can shorten one's lifespan and even harm one's cultivation. Yet, Odalys has never mentioned this to me. She married me out of obligation, not desire. She's not obligated to cure me and sacrifice her well-being. She has her own life and shouldn't compromise her cultivation for me."
Orson slumped back onto the sofa, his gaze contemplative. His fingers curled into a fist; his lips parted, but no words of refutation emerged. He was a doctor, yet he felt utterly powerless. He had grown up alongside Percival, always under his protection, bearing many burdens to allow Orson a carefree life. He'd never imagined he couldn't repay Percival. Frustration welled up at his own inadequacy.
"Don't tell her about my condition. If she asks, reassure her that all is well," Percival instructed.
Orson didn't nod but turned away in a huff. He picked up the strong liquor, gulped it down, and slammed the glass on the coffee table, venting his dissatisfaction.
"Have you ever thought about what will happen to the Stewart family if something happens to you?" Orson roared angrily. "Edie has been aiming for the Stewart family from the beginning. Your father's revenge is still pending. Are you giving up on yourself? Are you waiting for the Stewart family to be swallowed up by the Simpsons? Once you die, the entire family will fall apart!" He wasn't truly worried about the Stewart family; he was angry that Percival was still thinking about the bigger picture. He wanted Percival to be selfish and think of himself, but he wouldn't.
"I will arrange everything. Before I die, the Simpson family will perish," Percival said coldly.
Orson stood abruptly as Callum entered, holding a tablet and documents.
"Mr. Stewart," Callum said, handing over the documents. He set the tablet aside. Percival quickly scanned the documents, then opened the tablet to examine the data.
Callum reported, "Officer Hersey is working with us to root out the Simpsons' connections in the police department. Since Quinton's return, he's been using his connections and influence to make moves on Crownridge, though he's stayed hidden. He's also the one who got Edie out of the police station."
Percival returned the tablet after reading. "Edie's flash marriage to Henry wasn't about the Bennett family's meager assets, but something they possessed that she considered even more valuable. She broke off contact with them after they sent Odalys away years ago, but Quinton has always kept in touch."
"Callum, find all the businesses and connections the Simpson family has had contact with over the years, and compile them. I also need a list of everyone Edie has been in contact with, including communication records."