Chapter 83

Hidden in the shadows, Kingston watched the scene unfold. His gaze shifted to Wendelyn with contempt. He thought, "What a useless piece of trash who couldn’t even handle such a simple task. No wonder she could never compete with Shermaine."

The crowd held their breath as Leslie charged forward. "What was he trying to do? Was he going to ruin the opening dance?"

In the crowd, Lincoln’s heart skipped a beat when he saw what was happening. Panic washed over him as he thought to himself, "What the hell is Leslie doing? He can’t mess with Joshua."

Security guards emerged from the crowd and moved to intercept Leslie. Leslie lashed out wildly, swinging at anyone who tried to stop him. But he had no real fighting skills, and he was no match for professionally trained bodyguards. Within seconds, they had him pinned to the ground, completely immobilized. He let out an agonized howl as hallucinations began to cloud his vision. He could see an icy lake shimmering before him, and all he wanted was to dive in and cool the fire burning through his body.

"It’s right there," Leslie thought desperately. "Why won’t they let me go? I can’t stand this anymore!"

The bodyguards had no idea Leslie was hallucinating. They assumed he was trying to cause trouble and moved to drag him off the dance floor. But just as they grabbed him, Leslie suddenly spewed blood from his mouth. It sprayed across the polished floor like crimson rain, and he kept vomiting more and more. The metallic smell of blood quickly filled the air. A pool of red spread across the floor, triggering terrified screams from the guests.

The bodyguards stood there completely dumbfounded. They hadn’t touched him—he’d just started vomiting blood and collapsed on his own. They quickly backed away from Leslie, forming a semicircle around him while looking to Joshua for instructions. Joshua and Shermaine, who had been dancing in the center of the floor, stopped mid-step and headed toward the commotion.

Lincoln rushed forward, shouting, "Leslie!"

Leslie’s consciousness was fading. After his violent outburst, his body felt weak and feverish. Something seemed to be gnawing at his internal organs, causing unbearable pain throughout his body. Blood began streaming from his nose and ears. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A perfectly normal party turned into a disaster. It clearly wasn’t a minor incident.

Lincoln roared at the crowd, "Is there a doctor here? Someone get over here and help my son!"

In the crowd, Wendelyn’s mind went completely blank. "Wasn’t Shermaine supposed to be the one who drank the red wine? Why is Leslie the one in trouble? Could it be that Shermaine never drank that glass of wine at all, and Leslie was the one who actually drank it?"

"Holy shit, isn’t that Leslie?" Clyde’s loud voice carried over the crowd as he recognized the victim, his shock evident.

Ruth seized the opportunity to speculate with barely concealed glee. "You don’t think Leslie tried to kill himself over Shermaine’s engagement, do you?" She remembered clearly how Leslie had been instantly captivated when he saw Shermaine at the family dinner. With her subtle encouragement, Leslie had even approached Shermaine at school. She’d hoped something might develop between them, but she’d been wrong.

Janice shot Ruth a disapproving look the moment those words left her mouth. Trust Ruth to say something so tasteless at a time like this. Sure enough, the people who overheard Ruth’s comment began exchanging meaningful glances. "So it was a suicide attempt over love. Apparently, this guy had some kind of history with Shermaine."

Janice snapped at her, "What nonsense are you spouting? Have you lost your mind?"

Ruth’s face darkened. "How have I lost my mind?"

Janice wanted to slap her across the face. "Ruth doesn’t deserve to be a mother!"

Clyde looked completely bewildered. "Aunt Ruth, what are you talking about? How could Leslie possibly like Shermaine?" He paused, trying to think of something negative to say about Shermaine, but came up empty. He’d thought she was a cheater, but it turned out she was top of the class. And at chess, she was even better than Wendelyn.

"Shermaine’s so accomplished, it’s normal for people to like her," Sherlock said, taking Shermaine’s side. "But suicide? That’s going too far."

Ruth remained unrepentant, convinced her theory wasn’t impossible. "What’s so far-fetched about it? What if Leslie is head over heels in love with Shermaine?" She paused before adding, "Right, Wendy?"

Wendelyn hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well, Shermaine is beautiful and popular at school. It’s not impossible."

Before Janice could say anything more, Owen cut her off with a gentle tone, "Hey, there’s no point getting angry with the younger generation. Their mouths are their own, and if they’ve lost their minds, there’s nothing you can do about it."

Ruth’s expression grew even uglier. The image she’d carefully maintained for years was about to be ruined by Owen and Janice. "What’s wrong with me speaking my mind? Why can’t I say what I think?"

Owen continued, "Jameson, you need to keep your wife in check. Sheary is her daughter, not some stranger."

Jameson quickly agreed, then looked at Ruth with nothing but disgust and revulsion. She was acting like she owned the place, speaking without any regard for the occasion or propriety.

"Furthermore, Joshua will investigate and uncover the truth about what happened. I hope the distinguished guests who heard Mrs. Jean’s remarks won’t take them to heart or spread rumors," Owen announced to the crowd.

Ross stepped forward to support him. "Mr. York is right. Sheary barely knew Leslie. There’s no way she’d kill herself over him." The moment Ruth had uttered those words, he’d made his decision—he was done with Ruth.

Meanwhile, a doctor rushed over to examine Leslie’s condition. Strangely, after a thorough check, he couldn’t identify the problem. Leslie was bleeding from his mouth, nose, and ears without any apparent cause. The doctor initially suspected poisoning, but the symptoms didn’t match. Without knowing the cause, the doctor couldn’t treat him properly.

"We need to get him to a hospital for a full examination," the doctor advised. "We have to find out what’s wrong before we can help him."

Lincoln could only nod repeatedly in agreement. He didn’t know anything about medicine and had to trust the doctor’s judgment. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone to call an ambulance.

At that moment, Shermaine approached them. "Calling an ambulance won’t help," she said. She smoothed down her skirt and knelt beside the man, pressing her fingers against his pulse point before checking his pupils. Within seconds, she made her diagnosis. It wasn’t a parasite—it was a poisonous worm. She had encountered this before in Southeast Aploth, which meant she was the only person here who could save Leslie.