?Chapter 273:


    “Understood.” Elliott pivoted, his voice crisp as he gazed at the family doctor, Carson Ansell. “Dr. Ansell, give Miss Jones the scalpel.”


    Carson’sposure shattered. His words tumbled out in a rush—panicked, desperate. “Mr. Hubbard, you can’t be serious! You’re really letting this woman operate on Miss Hubbard right here? This isn’t an operating room—this is reckless!”


    Having been the Hubbard family’s private physician for years, Carson had long viewed the Hubbard family like his own, their pain and joy entwined with his own life. The idea of losing Eloise was unbearable, especially after the kindness he had received from the Hubbard family.


    But Elliott’s grip on his shoulder was steady, unyielding. “Grandpa already gave the order. We’re letting Miss Jones handle this.”


    Carson stared at Elliott, silent and torn. After several tense seconds, the weight of defeat settled on his shoulders, and he finally let out a long, reluctant sigh. He was beyond frustrated, but since there was no talking the Hubbard family out of it, all he could do was level Christina with a re cold enough to cut ss. Suspicion tangled with resentment in his eyes—he couldn’t fathom what this woman’s true intentions were. One thing was clear: if Eloise’s condition took a turn for the worse, he’d see to it that Christina paid dearly.


    Having made up his mind, Carson pressed the scalpel into Christina’s hand, his movements stiff. “Miss Jones,” he called out, his voice soft but edged with unmistakable threat. “Miss Hubbard’s life is in your hands now. Any mistake, and I will hold you responsible—down to yourst breath.”


    “No worries. Miss Hubbard’s going to make it,” Christina assured him, her tone steady, eyes burning with clear determination.


    There was something unshakeable in her manner—so calm, so assured—that for a fleeting second, even Carson found himself wanting to believe her. Christina dropped to one knee beside Eloise, the scalpel glinting between her fingers.


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    Gently, she brushed Eloise’s bangs aside and pinned them away from her pale forehead.


    Carson’s eyes widened, his nerves stretched to the brink. “You’re not about to perform a craniotomy, are you?”


    Christina let out a breezyugh, the tension barely ruffling herposure. “Rx. I’m not opening up anyone’s skull. I’m just going to drain a bit of the poisoned blood—nothing drastic. Plus, Miss Hubbard isn’t injured in the head. Why would I go cutting into her brain? It’s not like we’re standing in an operating room or anything.”


    At the time, her words made perfect sense, and no one dwelt on them. Only muchter—when Elliott finally pieced together that Christina was actually the legendary healer, King—did the memory strike him like a lightning bolt. She’d never actually denied that she knew how to perform brain surgery.


    “So where exactly do you intend to make the incision?” Carson pressed, suspicion sharpening his tone. He didn’t buy a word about Eloise being poisoned—she looked perfectly fine, and every hospital test hade up clean. Christina calmly tapped the bluish mark at Eloise’s temple. “Right here.”


    Carson’s scowl only deepened. “I’ve never heard of anyone draining blood from the temple.”


    Christina gave a little shrug, her poise unshaken. “Well, you’re in for a treat—today you get to see how it’s done.”


    From somewhere in the crowd, a worried voice rang out. “But if you cut her there, won’t she end up disfigured?”


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