Chapter 4

"Do you trust me?"

When Seraphine asked that question, her eyes were as still as a stagnant pond.

Yet those beautiful eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners. Under the harsh hospital lights, they carried an inexplicable weight—a pressure that bore down on anyone who met her gaze.

Clayton froze for a moment.

He stared at this younger sister he'd met less than half an hour ago. A strange instinct stirred inside him.

He could trust her.

"I trust you." He didn't hesitate.

The woman who'd been shrieking earlier exploded. "Clayton! Have you lost your mind? Some random girl just shoved God-knows-what down my father's throat, and you say you trust her? If something happens to Dad, are you going to take responsibility?"

The speaker was Flora FitzRoy, Orion's eldest daughter. In her early fifties, meticulously maintained, her carefully made-up face now twisted with rage.

"Father ate something filthy. We need to pump his stomach immediately!" Flora's younger brother, Paxton FitzRoy, jumped in.

"Doctor! What are you standing around for? Arrange a gastric lavage now!"

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances. No one dared move.

This was one of the top hospitals in the country, but every person in this room was someone they couldn't afford to offend.

Clayton barely hesitated. He strode to Seraphine's side, positioning himself in front of her. His gaze swept over the pack of circling FitzRoy relatives. "She's my sister. Whatever she does, I'll take responsibility."

"You'll take responsibility?" Flora sneered. "Clayton, who do you think you are? If Father dies, can you handle the consequences?"

"No," Clayton replied calmly. "But I trust her."

Seraphine glanced at him briefly.

She'd seen too much false sentiment. Too many people who said one thing to your face and another behind your back.

Clayton knew nothing about her, yet he was willing to stake everything on her.

That kind of trust was… interesting.

In that case, she'd lend him a hand.

"Clayton, move aside a bit." Seraphine's tone was even.

Clayton hesitated but stepped aside, though he stayed close enough to intervene if needed.

Seraphine approached the bedside. Her slender fingers moved over Orion with practiced precision, each motion fluid, as though she'd done this a thousand times before.

The room fell silent.

Everyone stared at this girl who'd appeared out of nowhere. She wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans, her long hair loose and unstyled.

Yet the calm authority radiating from her made it impossible to dismiss her.

Her features were striking—brows that tilted slightly upward, carrying a natural coolness. But her eyes curved at the outer corners, lending her a lazy, almost languid air.

Her skin was flawless, nearly translucent under the sterile hospital lights, making her eyes appear even deeper—like ink that couldn't be dissolved, cold yet piercing.

"Get the resuscitation equipment ready," Seraphine ordered without looking up. "Defibrillator. Epinephrine. Prepare IV access."

The doctor froze. "Are you—are you a doctor?"

"No." Seraphine looked up. Her eyes were terrifyingly calm. "But if you don't move now, he really won't make it."

The doctor bit his lip and instructed the nurses to comply.

Seraphine pulled a set of tools from her pocket and began treating Orion with swift, decisive movements.

In medicine, very few doctors used this type of emergency treatment—especially for sudden loss of consciousness from coma, fainting, or shock.

"My God!" someone gasped.

"Stop her!" Flora shrieked, even lunging forward to intervene, but Clayton blocked her.

Seraphine ignored them. Her fingers moved rapidly yet with absolute precision.

Her technique was unlike anything a conventional doctor would use. Each motion followed a specific, unusual method.

After three rounds, Orion's heart monitor began to shift.

After five, the weak waveforms gradually strengthened.

After seven, Orion's eyelids twitched.

After ten, Orion's eyes slowly opened, and he let out a faint groan.

"This…" The attending physician's eyes went wide. "How is this possible?"

He'd practiced medicine for twenty years and had never witnessed anything like this.

The treatment method was rare and mysterious.

He couldn't even follow her technique, but the results were undeniable.

"Grandpa's awake! Grandpa's awake!" someone from the FitzRoy family cried out.

The same people who'd been demanding they stop treatment moments ago now stood frozen in shock.

Seraphine confirmed Orion's vital signs had stabilized before finally withdrawing her hands.

Just ten minutes ago, Orion had been on the brink of death. Now he was awake?

Everyone rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the room.

The hospital director rushed in, drenched in sweat, followed by a tall man.

The man appeared to be in his late twenties. He wore a black coat over a dark gray shirt, buttoned all the way up, accentuating the sharp, elegant line of his neck.

His narrow eyes were deep as a frozen lake, yet the corners tilted slightly upward, adding an indefinable allure.

He looked like a richly painted oil portrait—cold, sharp, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

Not the kind of beauty that invited closeness. The kind that made people keep their distance, holding their breath in reverence.

"Mr. FitzRoy!" The director spoke respectfully.

Octavius.

Head of the overseas FitzRoy family. Rumored to be ruthless and powerful, he'd expanded the family's influence several times over in just a few years.

He'd returned to the country after hearing Orion was critically ill.

His gaze swept over the chaotic room before landing on Orion in the bed. His brow furrowed slightly.

"What happened?" His voice was low, carrying an innate authority.

The FitzRoy relatives who'd been so arrogant moments ago now shrank back. No one dared speak.

Flora's heart pounded in fear.

Why had this terrifying nephew suddenly returned?

Clayton stepped forward. "Octavius, Mr. FitzRoy is fine now. Thanks to my sister. She saved him."

Octavius's gaze finally fell on Seraphine.

The girl was calmly packing away her tools, moving casually, as though she'd just completed something utterly trivial.

Sensing his stare, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

Octavius's pupils contracted slightly.

Those eyes…

Cool. Distant. Yet carrying a calm understanding of everything.

Like snow on a mountaintop. Like moonlight on deep water. Close, yet impossibly far away.

He'd seen countless pairs of eyes. But none had ever made his heart skip a beat like this.

More importantly—they felt familiar. As if he'd seen them somewhere before.

Seraphine had already looked away. She finished packing her tools, stood, and said to Clayton, "We can go."

"Wait." Octavius spoke.

Seraphine paused, glancing back at him.

Octavius had already regained his composure, his expression cold. But his voice carried a warmth even he hadn't noticed. "Thank you. I'll come by to express my gratitude properly later."

"No need." Seraphine's tone was flat. "And no need to wait. Just pay me."