?Chapter 278:


    “Dad, I was out of line,” Bruno muttered, forcing himself to look contrite as he faced the Hubbard family. “I’m sorry. I just—Eloise’s situation got the better of me.”


    Omar waved him off with a brisk gesture. “That’s enough. All of you—wait in the inner hall.”


    No one from the Happer family dared protest. Seething with frustration, they trailed after Omar, resentment thick in the air as they left the banquet hall.


    As soon as the door shut behind them, Christina moved with quiet, practiced focus. She sterilized her scalpel, the faint scent of antiseptic drifting through the tense air, and then pressed the de to Eloise’s forehead, right at the spot where the poison had pooled beneath the skin.


    Carson hovered close by, every muscle taut, eyes narrowed in concentration. Ever since he’d learned about Christina’s connection to Calvin, his skepticism had given way to grudging respect—and now he was quick to prep the next round of medication, ready to assist at a moment’s notice.


    When Christina’s scalpel sliced cleanly through Eloise’s skin, a sickly, viscous liquid welled up from the incision—a dark greenish ooze that looked nothing like normal blood.


    Carson felt his stomach clench at the sight. If he hadn’t been standing there, witnessing the bizarre fluid seep from Eloise’s wound, he’d have thought it was all an borate setup, some magician’s sleight of hand.


    By the time Omar returned, a small mountain of bloody gauze had already formed on the tray, every square scrap stained with that unnatural green.


    Omar stared, bewildered. If Vanessa hadn’t quietly exined what had happened, he might have doubted his own eyes. His voice trembled as he turned to Christina.


    “Why… Why does my daughter’s blood look like that?”


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    “She’s suffering from a rare poison. That dark patch isn’t a mark—it’s a buildup of toxins,” Christina exined, her voice calm as she guided the scalpel with practiced precision.


    Omar’s face clouded over. “Is all of her blood like this?” he inquired worriedly.


    At once, Vanessa, Elliott, and Carson exchanged tense looks—each of them instantly grasping the real meaning behind his question. One by one, their attention snapped to Christina, silently pressing her for the truth.


    Without pausing in her work, Christina let a sly smile flicker across her lips.


    “You’ve had Miss Hubbard examined plenty of times. If all her blood looked like this, you’d have sounded the rm long before now.”


    Only then did she raise her eyes, meeting Omar’s gaze head-on. “You were testing me.”


    Omar’s face reddened, caught off guard by how quickly Christina had called him out. He forced a cough, floundering for dignity. “Yes, I was. She’s my daughter—I had to make sure she was in safe hands.”


    Christina’s eyes flickered with icyposure as her gaze swept past them. “I understand you’re worried about Miss Hubbard. But you don’t have to question my intentions. She’s been poisoned—there’s no doubt about it.”


    Vanessa leaned in, desperation sharpening her tone. “Could you cure her, Miss Jones?”


    “Absolutely,” Christina replied, her words light, as if she were promising to fix a scraped knee.


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