Chapter 3
Serenity Health Center, top floor.
Lucius reclined on the sofa while his executive assistant Barry Jones quietly briefed him on various matters.
He listened expressionlessly, his long fingers removing the white gauze covering his eyes.
For five years, his eye condition had fluctuated, but lately, these episodes of temporary darkness had become increasingly frequent.
The door opened, and Barry announced respectfully, "Mr. Talbot, Dr. Davis has arrived."
A woman in a crisp white suit and white mask entered, carrying a tablet computer with two assistants behind her, equipment in hand.
She was tall and slender, with shoulder-length black hair that accentuated her luminous skin. Her eyes were clear yet distant.
Lucius's gaze settled on her, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. So this was the internationally acclaimed ophthalmologist, Alice? She seemed far too young.
Seraphine sat down across from him without a sideways glance, her voice cool yet strangely familiar. "Mr. Talbot, I've reviewed your medical history. Progressive retinal nerve degeneration, cause unknown. Tell me about your most recent episode of blindness—duration, warning signs, and visual perception after recovery."
Lucius didn't answer immediately. As she approached, a subtle fragrance reached him—crisp with a hint of sweetness that reminded him of Seraphine.
The thought crossed his mind fleetingly before he dismissed it.
Impossible. Seraphine was just an impostor abandoned by the Manners family. How could she transform into a world-class medical expert?
Besides, this woman's voice and demeanor were completely different from the meek, timid Seraphine he remembered.
Yet that persistent sense of familiarity irritated him inexplicably.
Lucius leaned forward slightly, scrutinizing Alice with a detached tone. "Dr. Davis, you're quite young. I need to ensure you're capable of handling my condition. When it comes to my eyes, failure is not an option."
Barry listened nervously, breaking into a cold sweat.
Seraphine raised her eyes, her gaze steady. "Mr. Talbot, my professional qualifications need no justification. My appointments are booked three years in advance—you only secured today's consultation through the board chairman's influence."
"Medicine offers no absolute guarantees, but I can assure you that with me performing your surgery, your chances of restored vision are the highest possible worldwide."
She shifted her gaze from his face back to her tablet. "If you doubt my abilities, I can leave right now. I don't waste time on patients who don't trust me."
Lucius, a titan in the business world, was accustomed to dismissing others—never being dismissed himself. This Alice was colder and more arrogant than he'd anticipated.
Strangely, her businesslike manner and complete disregard for his status didn't anger him. Instead, it intensified that nagging sense of familiarity.
"I didn't mean to question you," Lucius said, his voice deepening as he leaned back, reasserting control.
"My situation is unique. During treatment, I prefer not to be disturbed, so... I hope you would consider relocating to my residence for the duration of my treatment, until my eyes are healed. As for compensation, name your price."
He watched her intently, searching for the slightest emotional reaction—greed for an exorbitant fee, perhaps, or excitement at the prospect of staying in a luxury mansion. But there was nothing.
Seraphine responded as if discussing something entirely inconsequential, glancing briefly at her watch. "That's acceptable. My consultation fee is one million dollars per hour. Accommodation, equipment, and team expenses are billed separately. My assistant will send regular invoices to Barry."
She agreed so readily, as if the location made no difference to her, and the astronomical sum he offered was merely an ordinary figure.
"Fine," Lucius agreed coldly.
"Then let's begin the initial examination."
Seraphine stood and wheeled a sophisticated ophthalmic device toward Lucius. Bright light emanated from the instrument as Lucius tilted his head back, his eyes facing the beam.
Seraphine's fingertips were cool and soft against his temple, separated only by the thin barrier of her medical gloves. At that touch, Lucius's body tensed slightly.
Even through the gloves, he could feel her delicate touch, sending an electric sensation throughout his body.
His physical memory proved more honest than his mind, rekindling the passion of that frenzied month five years ago—a long-forgotten thrill that only Seraphine had ever evoked in him.
Seraphine paused momentarily. "Mr. Talbot, please relax. Your muscle tension will affect the accuracy of your intraocular pressure readings."
She moved closer, needing to hold his eyelid open with her other hand. Her scent grew stronger, awakening Lucius's long-dormant restlessness and loss of control.
"Your hands," he said hoarsely. "Have they touched many people?"
The question came out of nowhere, bordering on inappropriate.
Nearby, Barry's eyes widened in shock. Since when did the cold, cutting Lucius flirt with doctors?