Chapter 1095

Ralph pondered the recent events, still struggling to comprehend them. "Heather's" visit to the neurology department defied conventional explanation. Her reaction suggested she believed his story, and perhaps even suspected the authenticity of her handbook—a thought that brightened his day. Checking the time, he decided to hurry and enlist his mother's help.

After retrieving his hospital report, he went directly to the Russell Estate. Margaret was already awake and enjoying breakfast when he arrived. She was just finishing as he entered the dining room. Initially maintaining her composure, she leapt from her chair upon seeing her son limping in, rushing to his side. "W-What happened to you?" she asked, worry etched on her face. She hadn't anticipated his injury.

"I'm alright. Just a minor injury. A fall," he replied. He couldn't tell her about Heather's involvement, their broken partnership, or her betrayal; he couldn't risk losing his mother's faith, his last remaining supporter.

While Ralph remained unconcerned about his injuries, Margaret was anxious. "A fall? How could you break something from a fall? Was it serious? What did the doctor say?" Seeing her precious son hurt broke her heart.

"It's a minor fracture. The doctor said plenty of rest will see me recover soon enough," he assured her. He was unfazed by her distress; her overprotective nature was a familiar pattern. Since childhood, she'd panicked at every injury, even his father unable to endure her tendencies. Their arguments—Hugo criticizing her overprotectiveness, Margaret accusing him of favoring Alexander—had eventually ceased, replaced by a focus on their respective children.

A plan formed in Ralph's mind as he observed his mother's reaction. He sighed. "To be honest, I think I sustained this injury at Alexander's."

"How's that possible? You were fine when you came home the other day," Margaret doubted, recalling his uninjured state after retrieving the item from Alexander's. How could a fracture appear days later?

"I was worried you'd panic, so I didn't mention it. Alexander's bedroom is booby-trapped—lasers, hidden arrows—nearly lethal. I slipped while trying to be careful. It seemed minor then, so I ignored it. After a few days, the pain increased, prompting a doctor's visit." He shifted his arm, wincing as the movement strained his wound.

"Stop moving your arm!" Margaret commanded. "Don't strain it. I'm still worried. I'll have the family doctor check you again. You silly boy, you should have gone to the doctor immediately! It wouldn't be this bad."

"I didn't expect it to worsen, nor did I expect so many traps," Ralph said, pausing. "Mom, we shouldn't underestimate Alex. His scheming mind is unlike ours. Since he anticipated my stealing the handbook, do you think he knows we're investigating him? Maybe he even tampered with the DNA test."