"Doctor, please check on Alatie," Celeste said calmly.

Adrian stopped short at the words. The room's atmosphere immediately tightened. However, Celeste remained calm, methodically packing her things without flinching.

The doctor swiftly produced his stethoscope and checked Alaric's vitals. As he listened to the elderly man's breathing, his brows slowly rose in astonishment. "There's been significant improvement, Mrs. Wrenford. Your medical skills are extraordinary."

Celeste offered a faint, courteous smile, then nodded at Alaric without speaking.

"Doctor, are you sure my grandfather is okay?" Damien's eyes were filled with disbelief. In his mind, Celeste had always been merely a hobbyist, her medical skills little more than amateurish. Even the hospital's specialists hadn't dared try acupuncture on Alaric. How had she succeeded? When had she become so capable?

Lucy's voice rang out, sharp with doubt. "Doctor, please check again. It will be difficult to explain if something happens after Ms. Marin leaves."

"His condition has clearly stabilized. From what I can tell, there's only one practitioner known for clearing meridians this efficiently. She's a legendary figure in traditional medicine circles—she goes by the name Cloudy. Mrs. Wrenford, could it be that you're connected to her?" The doctor looked at Celeste in disbelief, his eyes filled with admiration.

Every eye in the room turned to Celeste. She was prepared to leave, but she paused at his words. Cloudy. That was her childhood nickname. Her grandfather had given it to her, and no one but he had ever used it. After his passing, she carried his teachings with her silently—medicine was for healing, not fame. A true doctor brought health, not headlines.

For over a decade, she'd treated patients secretly under that name, with only a few aware of her true identity. Annie had known. So had Gabriel Thorne—her grandfather's official apprentice, though he, too, had preferred anonymity. Over time, the world had assumed she was the sole heir to her grandfather's legacy. In truth, he had passed on his knowledge but had never formally named her his apprentice.

"Don't press her if she doesn't wish to answer," Alaric interjected gently, sensing her reluctance.

A soft smile curved Celeste's lips. "I'm afraid I don't know the doctor you mentioned; we've never met. Now that Alaric's doing better, I'll take my leave. Please don't hesitate to contact me if anything changes."

Lucy's eyes narrowed, lips twitching with poorly concealed contempt. She knew it—Celeste was nothing more than a modest housewife who played with emeralds and dabbled in basic medicine. How could she possibly be connected to someone as revered as Cloudy?

"Take care, Celeste," Alaric said warmly, his gaze fond as he watched her go.

Damien remained silent, watching her retreat with growing unease. Something wasn't adding up.

Just beyond the doorway, Adrian leaned casually against the wall, his figure half-hidden in the shadows. Her exit didn't take her past him. His gaze followed her, cool and sharp, until the elevator doors closed behind her. Then he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his phone, and made a quiet call.

"Mr. Wornford, do you need something?"

"Run a full background check on Celeste Morin," he said, eyes still on the elevator. "I want to know everything."

"Ms. Marin?" Joshua sounded surprised. "Mr. Word, isn't she your nephew's wife? Why do you want to investigate her?"