Chapter 6 Isabella's Suspicion
The Tudor Manor
"Dr. York, how is my wife?" Raymond knelt beside the bed, his fingers trembling with anxiety.
An elderly doctor named Stephen York sat on a stool, adjusting his reading glasses as he pressed his fingers against Gloria's wrist. He murmured under his breath while listening to her pulse, his weathered face growing increasingly grave as Gloria's complexion turned an alarming shade of gray.
Stephen lifted his head and caught Raymond's eye with a meaningful look. Raymond immediately gestured for everyone to leave the room.
Brandon lingered near the door while Isabella remained in the doorway, neither willing to abandon their vigil.
"Please, Dr. York, tell me—what's wrong with my wife?" Raymond's voice cracked with desperation.
"Dr. York, you have to tell us something. My father's beside himself with worry." Brandon's gaze never left his mother's pallid face, his voice thick with anguish. "Why would she just collapse like that? And the way she looks..."
His words died in his throat, unable to voice the terrible thoughts that plagued him. He knew his parents' love ran deep, and he couldn't bear to speak such ominous words aloud.
Isabella frowned, studying Gloria's face intently.
Something felt wrong—this wasn't the simple weakness of illness.
Though Gloria appeared delicate, she'd never seemed chronically unwell. Her pale complexion had always been attributed to spending too much time indoors, away from sunlight.
A person who fainted from heart palpitations shouldn't deteriorate this rapidly, not with proper medical attention. The ashen pallor spreading across Gloria's features was deeply unsettling.
More than anything, Isabella wanted to read the cards for her mother, but this was hardly the time. She was also curious about Stephen's medical expertise.
Stephen's eyes swept the room before settling on Isabella in the doorway. Raymond nodded and made the introduction: "This is my daughter—we've just found her."
"You're Bunny?" Stephen's voice carried a note of recognition as he looked at Isabella.
Hearing her childhood nickname, Isabella started in surprise.
"I was the first person in this world to hold you." Stephen smiled warmly.
Isabella realized immediately that Stephen must have delivered her.
Seeing Stephen's casual reminiscing while his wife lay gravely ill, Raymond's patience snapped. "Dr. York, please—no more distractions! Tell me what's wrong with my wife. Her fingers are ice-cold. Should we take her to the hospital?"
The usually composed Raymond would never have spoken so bluntly under normal circumstances.
After all, Stephen was the Chief of Medicine at Royal Birmingdon Memorial Hospital—suggesting they take Gloria elsewhere was tantamount to questioning his competence.
"Hmph, think this old man's past his prime, do you?" Stephen feigned indignation with a theatrical snort.
Brandon quickly intervened, placing a gentle hand on Stephen's arm. "Dr. York, my mom looks terrible—just tell us what's happening."
"Your mother has suffered cardiac ischemia, which caused her to faint." Stephen spoke slowly and deliberately. "I'll use acupuncture to stabilize her—it shouldn't be too serious. However..." He hesitated, leaving the sentence hanging.
"However, what?" Isabella couldn't help but interject.
Stephen wavered, ultimately choosing not to complete his thought.
His diagnosis suggested Gloria was showing signs of congenital heart disease—but that was impossible.
When Gloria had given birth to Brandon over twenty years ago, Stephen had performed a comprehensive examination and found no such condition.
How could she suddenly develop symptoms of a congenital defect after all these years?
Stephen's hesitation told Isabella everything she needed to know—her mother's condition was far from simple.
Without further delay, Stephen turned to Brandon. "Sunny, fetch my silver needles."
Stephen was renowned for his skill with enchanted silver needles—artifacts of ancient magic said to mend flesh and spirit alike. Legends spoke of his mastery of lost healing arts, techniques that could snatch souls from death's grasp, though none had ever witnessed such miracles firsthand.
Stephen carefully unrolled his velvet pouch, laying each enchanted silver needle on immaculate white linen with practiced precision—one, three, seven, thirteen in all.
At the sight, both Raymond and Brandon's eyes widened. He was preparing to perform the legendary healing ritual.
"Everyone out." Stephen's voice brooked no argument.
Raymond didn't hesitate, leading Brandon from the room. Isabella lingered in the doorway for one last look at her mother before joining them in the corridor.
"Bunny, don't blame yourself for what happened today." Raymond's voice was gentle as he tried to comfort her. "Your mother waited eighteen years to see you again—she must have been overjoyed. None of us could have predicted this collapse. Don't take it to heart."
Isabella nodded at Raymond's reassurance.
Brandon wrapped a protective arm around Isabella's shoulders. "Isabella, trust Dr. York—he's brilliant, just has a flair for the dramatic. Mother will be fine."
Though Brandon spoke with forced lightness, his tense posture betrayed his true anxiety.
Isabella glanced toward an empty guest room nearby. Following her gaze, Brandon said, "You must be shaken too. That's a spare room—go rest for a while."
Isabella nodded without protest and slipped into the quiet chamber. She needed solitude to consult her tarot cards about her mother's condition. Despite Stephen's reputation, worry gnawed at her.
Divination could reveal a person's future fortune, lifespan, and ability to survive major crises.
Isabella closed the door and spread her tarot deck, quickly drawing three cards and turning them face up—the Sun, the Wheel of Fortune, and the Angel. The reading revealed that her mother was experiencing a profound crisis.
She drew two more cards to glimpse her mother's future, revealing the Wand and the Mist. This meant someone could save her mother, but she wouldn't be completely healed this time. Her true savior would appear later.
Isabella gathered the cards and pondered the reading before calling her mentor Jenny.
"Oh, my little angel! What a lovely surprise. Have you booked your flight yet? I'm dying to see you."
Jenny's warm voice flowed through the phone like honey.
Touched by Jenny's affectionate invitation, Isabella spoke honestly, "Jenny, I've found my birth parents and I'm staying with them now. But my mother collapsed and fell ill. I just read the cards for her..."
"The reading wasn't favorable, was it?" Jenny's intuition was razor-sharp.
"No, Jenny." Isabella's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I suspect someone has cast a spell on my mother."
"What makes you think that?"
"Jenny, you shouldn't forget—I'm your star pupil. I can tell the difference between genuine illness and a magical curse."