Chapter 180 - Hundred And Eighty

Words : 1006 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

Baron Henry lay on the bed, his face a waxy, unnatural pale. He was completely still, his chest rising and falling in a shallow, barely perceptible rhythm. The doctor, a grim-faced man with spectacles on his tired eyes, finished his examination of the unconscious Baron. Augusta stood by the bed, her own face a mask of false wifely concern. "Will he be able to wake up, Doctor?" she asked, her voice a perfect imitation of a worried wife. "The Baron is in a comatose state," the doctor said, his voice low and professional as he began to pack his medical bag. "The shock of the fall, combined with his already fragile health, it seems it was all too much for his brain." He looked at Augusta with a pained, pitying expression. "As for when, or if, he will be able to wake up... that, Baroness, I am not certain of." The doctor took his bag and left the room, leaving Augusta alone with her unconscious husband and her secret, triumphant thoughts. Delia, who had been waiting outside in the hallway with Duchess Lyra, saw the doctor emerge from the room. She immediately followed him down the hall, her heart pounding with a terrible dread. "Doctor," she said, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Please, tell me the truth. How is my father, really?" The doctor stopped and turned to her, his professional mask slipping for a moment to reveal a look of deep, genuine sympathy. "He is in a comatose state, Your Grace," he confirmed. "And I am not sure of his chances of a full recovery." He then lowered his voice even further, his gaze darting around the empty hallway to make sure no one else was listening. "And that is because of the large doses of arsenic that have been accumulating in his body over a long period of time." The word hit Delia with a deep shock. "Arsenic?" she whispered, her voice full of a horrified disbelief. The doctor nodded grimly. "It is a slow, cumulative poison. In his already weakened state, the shock from today was simply the final push." He looked at her, his expression now sharp and questioning. "What medication does he normally take, Your Grace?" "I... I don’t know," Delia replied, a wave of guilt washing over her. She had been so consumed with her own plans, she had not paid close enough attention to her father’s daily care. "Bring a sample of his regular medicine to my clinic," the doctor said, pressing a small paper with his address into her hand. "I will check it out for you, quietly." Delia nodded, her mind reeling from the terrible revelation. "Thank you, Doctor," she said. He left, and Delia went back to Lyra, her own face now as pale as her father’s. "How is he?" Lyra asked, her voice full of a gentle concern. "He is in a comatose state," Delia replied, her own voice trembling slightly. Lyra’s expression was full of a deep, motherly sympathy. "Oh, my dear child." She paused, then asked, her tone now a little more serious, "Delia, what is all of this going on with the Royal Bank loan?" Delia took a deep, shaky breath. "It is true, Mother," she confessed, the word now feeling natural on her lips. "I was the one who stopped the loan process. I told Eric to help me do it." Tears of a new, painful guilt began to well up in her eyes. "But I had a good reason for it, I swear. I need to tear the Ellington Textile Establishment to the very ground, and then rebuild its reputation from scratch. My grandfather and the Baroness, they have sullied its good name for far too long with their corrupt practices. The company is not redeemable as it is." The tears began to stream down her face now, hot and fast. "I swear, Mother, I did not mean to hurt him. I never, ever wanted him to find out like this. I was going to tell him myself, when he was recovering, so that I would not put his fragile health at any more risk." Lyra pulled her into a tight, warm hug. She patted Delia’s head softly, her other hand soothing her back in slow, comforting circles. "Shhh..." she whispered into Delia’s ear. "It is not your fault, child. It is not your fault." She held her for a long moment, letting her cry. "I am sure your father, in his heart, understands your intentions. He loves you, Delia. He knows you would never, ever intentionally hurt him. So you must stop your tears now. You cannot let them see that they have gotten to you. You cannot show them your weakness." They broke their hug, and Lyra gently wiped the stray tears from Delia’s eyes with her thumb. "Dry those tears now, my child," she said, her voice full of a new, firm resolve. "Let us go home." Delia nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. Lyra then turned to the Captain of the Guard, Sir Thorne, who had been standing at a discreet distance. "I am so sorry for wasting your time today, Sir Thorne," she said, her voice now that of a formal Duchess again. Sir Thorne bowed deeply. "It is a pleasure to be at your service, Your Highness," he replied. "It is my duty." Lyra nodded. "Thank you." She then turned to the head of her legal team. "You will halt the legal process against Lady Anne and the Baroness, for now." The man looked surprised, but he simply bowed. Lyra explained, her voice a low, strategic murmur. "We will not be seen as bullies, kicking a family when its patriarch is on his deathbed. We will wait. Justice can be patient." She then turned back to Delia, a soft, reassuring smile on her face. "It is okay now, Delia. Let us go home. Eric must be waiting for you. You can always come back tomorrow to check on your father." Delia nodded.

Chapter 180 - Hundred And Eighty

Comments (0)