Chapter 3

The tractor tires loomed high and massive. Clayton snapped back, ready to help Seraphine climb up—but she'd already leapt aboard effortlessly.

How did she do that?

Throughout the ride, Seraphine gazed lazily into the distance, her long hair whipping in the wind, revealing a breathtaking face.

Every movement radiated effortless elegance.

"Aren't we going back to the countryside?" Sensing they'd veered off course, Seraphine fixed Clayton with a suspicious look.

Clayton opened his mouth to respond, but his phone rang. After answering, disappointment bled through his voice. "Keep looking. Buy those Longevity Pill, no matter the cost."

Longevity Pill—as the name suggested, they extended life, achieving remarkable results in cardiovascular and neurological care. More than once, news had broken about them reviving people on death's door.

They were nothing short of a miracle drug everyone desperately sought.

The problem? Rare ingredients. Complex production. The pills weren't just astronomically expensive—they were nearly impossible to find.

The Windsor family had offered a fortune. Still no leads.

Seraphine touched the bottle in her pocket, testing the waters. "Is someone in the family sick?"

"Not our family." Clayton sighed. "It's a close family friend—my father's sworn brother. If we can't get Longevity Pill, Mr. FitzRoy won't last three months."

His face clouded with worry.

Seraphine lowered her gaze. She had a bottle of Longevity Pill in her pocket. Hell, she could make more if she wanted.

But did the Windsor family deserve it?

Clayton's phone rang again. A low, anxious voice crackled through.

"Clayton, something happened to my dad! I'm on my way back, but I might not make it in time. You know my family's situation—please, get there and hold down the fort for me. Whatever decision you make, I'll back you completely."

Clayton's expression turned grave. "Got it."

He gunned the tractor like a race car, tearing toward the hospital.

Meanwhile, at the Wipere Villa.

Xiomara flipped through a magazine—an interview with the wealthiest family in the country, the Windsors. The man on camera was Clayton Windsor, the family's second son.

Her eyes went wide.

"Mom, this guy..." She shakily held the magazine out to Haven. "Doesn't he look a lot like the man who picked up Seraphine today?"

Haven laughed dismissively. "Silly girl, lots of people look alike."

She stroked Xiomara's injured arm tenderly. "I heard an internationally renowned cardiovascular specialist is coming for a lecture. I'll pull strings to get you a ticket. Maybe you can become his apprentice."

"Xiomara, remember this—you're the Wipere family's hope. Don't ever contact that pauper Seraphine again. Block her on everything today. From now on, she has nothing to do with this family. Understood?"

"Understood." But Xiomara's mind wandered, her gaze drifting back to the magazine. The more she looked, the more it resembled the man from earlier. "Mom, why do they look so similar?"

"You don't need to know if they look alike. You just need to know that trashy girl Seraphine doesn't have that kind of luck."

The Windsors weren't just the richest family in the country—they ranked among the world's wealthiest elite. Even town-level tycoons like the Wiperes couldn't dream of touching them. Seraphine? Have that kind of destiny?

Ridiculous.

Xiomara decided her mother had a point. How could Seraphine possibly be that lucky?

Ten minutes later, the tractor screeched to a halt at the hospital entrance. Clayton grabbed Seraphine's wrist and bolted toward the premium ward. Outside the room, a crowd had gathered, voices clashing.

"We've said it already! Stop all treatment immediately! Mr. Orion FitzRoy has had a hard enough life—can't you let him leave with dignity? You're squeezing money out of a dying man! It's inhuman!"

"Exactly! As his children, we're ordering you to stop all resuscitation! If you don't, you can kiss this hospital goodbye!"

The doctors looked frazzled.

The FitzRoy family—while not as powerful as the Windsors domestically—overseas, they were synonymous with wealth and influence. An unmatched force.

But the family was fractured from within.

These people feared the current head, Octavius FitzRoy—but with Octavius overseas and unable to intervene, they saw their chance to cause trouble.

A small hospital like this couldn't afford to cross them.

Clayton strode over to negotiate. The conversation was going nowhere. The relatives were hell-bent on letting Orion die today.

While no one was watching, Seraphine slipped into the room. She glanced at the medical chart on the nightstand, her brow furrowing, then slipped a Longevity Pill into Orion's mouth.

"You little brat, what did you just give my father?"

A woman suddenly shrieked. Everyone stopped and turned toward Seraphine. Her eyes were clear, but her presence carried a cold intensity far beyond her twenty years.

The doctor panicked, rushing over to check Orion. "Mr. FitzRoy's case is complicated! What did you give him? If something happens, can you take responsibility? Tell us now!"

The relatives swarmed her.

Seraphine ignored their outrage. She turned to Clayton instead. His reaction would determine whether she'd bother saving this man.

Rheumatic heart disease. Nothing more.

Was it really that hard to treat?

She smiled. "Clayton, do you trust me?"