?Chapter 851:


    Atst, the middle-aged man formally introduced himself. “My name is Manley Seymour, butler of this mansion. The man I spoke of—the one suffering from this strange affliction—is Dayton Pierce, the mayor of Marehelm.”


    With that, he stepped aside, gesturing for us to follow as he led us directly to Dayton’s chamber.


    As soon as we crossed the threshold into the bedroom, an almost suffocating tension settled over us, heavy as a storm cloud before the downpour.


    Dayton, just as Manley had described,y sprawled on the bed, his frail body sinking into the mattress. Hisplexion was ghostly pale, his brows knitted in deep agony, and sweat beaded across his forehead in glistening trails. His lips quivered ever so slightly, as though he were caught in the clutches of a dreadful nightmare, struggling to break free but hopelessly ensnared.


    Beside him, a woman sat hunched over, her silent sobs shaking her slender frame. Shoulders trembling, she seemed as delicate as ss, on the verge of shattering under the weight of her sorrow.


    At the sound of our footsteps, she slowly lifted her head and dabbed away the tears clinging to hershes, regaining herposure with practiced grace.


    Only then did I truly take her in. Though likely in her thirties, she carried a timeless beauty, her elegance untouched by age. There was an air of quiet nobility about her, like a rose in full bloom—poised yet unguarded.


    Manley straightened immediately, dipping his head in a gesture of deep respect. His voice, when he spoke, wasced with deference. “Mrs. Pierce.”


    Recognition struck me like a jolt of lightning—this had to be Dayton’s wife.


    Maia Pierce nodded slightly in acknowledgment before her sharp gaze flickered to Jett and me, a glimmer of doubt dancing in her eyes. Her voice, though soft, carried an unmistakable weight. “Are you the doctors Manley arranged for?”


    Makenna’s POV:


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    “Yes,” Jett replied with a reassuring smile as he turned to Maia. “Don’t worry, I’ll do everything in my power to help your husband recover.”


    Maia exhaled heavily, her eyes pools of exhaustion and worry. “I’m sure Manley has exined my husband’s situation thoroughly to both of you. What I need to know is—are you truly confident you can cure him?”


    Jett didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted to Dayton, whoy motionless in the bed, before he asked, “Mrs. Pierce, how long has your husband been in this condition?”


    “A whole month,” Maia sighed, the weight of time evident in her voice. “During this time, we’ve consulted countless doctors, but none of them have offered any real hope.”


    Her voice cracked with emotion, and she turned away, unable to continue.


    Jett nodded thoughtfully and moved toward the bed to examine the patient more closely.


    Manley swiftly positioned himself between Jett and the bed, his posture tense with suspicion. “Hold on! You can examine Mr. Pierce from where you stand.”


    A coldugh escaped Jett’s lips as he frowned. “Mr. Seymour, with the mayor in such a dire state, what could I possibly gain by plotting against him? Your caution borders on paranoia.”


    Maia waved her hand with the authority of someone making a critical decision. “Manley, this gentleman makes a valid point. Let him approach and conduct a proper examination.”


    Upon hearing this, Manley lowered his arm reluctantly and stepped aside, though his eyes remained vignt.


    Jett quickly moved to the bedside, bending down to carefully assess Dayton’splexion and pulse. He even gently lifted the man’s eyelids for a closer look before straightening up with a contemtive expression.


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