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Chapter_87
Vivienne felt a rush of urgency as she and Percival made their way out of the office. Percival’s firm grip on her hand was unexpected, yet it wasn’t the first time he had acted so decisively. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his gestures, but right now, the only thing on her mind was getting to the address Clara had sent her.
As they hurried to the car, Vivienne’s mind raced. Faye’s condition sounded dire, and the warning signs of convulsions were never good. Clara’s frantic plea still echoed in her mind.
The car ride was a blur, with Vivienne glancing nervously at Percival, who was silently focused on the road ahead. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the whole situation. Why hadn’t Clara been able to reach her sooner? And why hadn’t Arabella been around to help? Vivienne’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her phone buzzing.
She quickly checked it—it was a message from Clara with the address and a brief update: Faye’s condition is worsening. Please hurry.
“Are you sure you don’t need a moment?” Vivienne asked Percival as they neared their destination.
“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone calm but determined. “Let’s focus on getting there quickly.”
Vivienne nodded, appreciating his steadiness, though she couldn’t help but wonder if Percival’s presence in this situation had more significance than he was letting on. She was well aware of the complexities that surrounded him—his mysterious background, the tension with his family, and his relationship with her. She was also aware that his feelings about the engagement, though unspoken, were far from neutral.
But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Faye’s life was at stake.
As the car pulled up to a quiet neighborhood, Vivienne’s heart quickened. The house in front of them seemed too ordinary for the urgency of the situation. Clara was already standing by the door, her face pale with worry. She rushed forward as soon as the car stopped, pulling Vivienne inside.
“She’s upstairs,” Clara said, her voice trembling. “Faye… she’s not responding anymore.”
Vivienne felt a chill run down her spine. She quickly followed Clara up the stairs, hearing the faint sounds of distress in the background. As they reached the bedroom, Vivienne’s eyes landed on Faye—pale, limp, and still as death.
Her mind snapped into action. “Get the room clear!” Vivienne barked, her voice authoritative. “Percival, get some ice. Clara, get me some towels and water.”
Within moments, Vivienne was by Faye’s side, checking her pulse and breathing. The convulsions had stopped, but her body was still rigid, feverish, and unresponsive.
“We need to cool her down quickly,” Vivienne muttered to herself, hands working fast as she instructed Percival to apply cold compresses to Faye’s head and neck. Her eyes were focused, every move calculated.
“She’s slipping,” Vivienne muttered, her voice steady but with a trace of concern. “Clara, stay with her. I need to prepare something.”
As she worked, Vivienne’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Arabella’s involvement in this case was becoming more suspicious by the minute. She couldn’t ignore the fact that Clara had called her because Arabella wasn’t answering. What if Arabella’s treatment was more harmful than helpful? What if there was something she hadn’t told them?
“Please hold on,” Vivienne whispered to Faye, trying not to let her own growing concerns show. She had seen patients in critical conditions before, but this—this felt different.
