Chapter 238 Suffocating Guilt

Chapter 238: Chapter 238 Suffocating Guilt

Vera’s lips trembled as she stared at Laurel, unable to answer the question that had just been asked. The corridor outside Grandpa Wayne’s ward was quiet except for the occasional footsteps of medical personnel, yet she felt as though everyone passing by could hear the frantic beating of her heart. She had come to see her grandfather, to assure herself that he was still alive, but hearing that Laurel had saved him brought a strange mixture of relief and terror.

Grandpa is going to recover. I should be happy. Why am I so frightened?

She knew the answer, of course. She had known it from the moment Margaret announced that Grandpa Wayne had collapsed and accused Enzo of poisoning him. Vera had wanted to believe the accusation, not because she trusted Margaret’s judgment, but because believing it meant she could continue pretending that the conversation they had shared before Grandpa’s illness had been nothing more than foolish talk.

"Vera, are you feeling unwell?" Laurel asked, noticing the younger woman’s increasingly pale complexion. She had expected Vera to be relieved by the news, perhaps even impatient to see Grandpa Wayne, but instead the woman stood before her looking as though she had received a death sentence.

Vera quickly shook her head. "No, I’m fine. I was just surprised to hear that Grandpa is getting better. Everyone said his condition was serious, and I thought..." Her voice weakened as she glanced towards the ward. "Can I see him?"

Laurel studied her for another moment before nodding. "You can, but don’t disturb him. His heart was badly affected by the poison, and although I’ve removed the immediate danger, his body still needs time to recover."

The mention of poison made Vera’s stomach tighten. She lowered her head, afraid that Laurel might notice the guilt written across her face.

She knows it was poison. What else does she know? Did someone discover what Aunt Margaret did?

Laurel noticed her reaction, but she was too exhausted to draw conclusions from it alone. The treatment had consumed a great deal of her strength, especially after everything she had done. Her limbs felt unusually heavy, and the dull discomfort spreading through her chest reminded her that even her abilities had limits.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t forget the expression on Vera’s face. "Go and see Grandpa first," Laurel said eventually. "We can talk afterwards."

Vera nodded and hurried into the ward, grateful for the opportunity to escape Laurel’s suspicious gaze.

Once the door closed, Laurel released a sigh and leaned against the wall. She had barely slept since returning to the fortress, and every time she believed the worst was over, another emergency appeared. Jack remained unconscious after surgery, Ida’s recovery would require careful observation, and now Grandpa Wayne had almost died from poisoning.

If I had returned any later, would he still be alive? The thought sent chill up her spine.

She remembered Grandpa Wayne’s stern expression whenever they argued about Alexander, his refusal to understand why she wanted a divorce, and the authority with which he expected everyone to obey him. There had been times when she resented him so deeply that she wished she never had to face him again. Yet seeing him lying helplessly on that bed had frightened her more than she cared to admit.

You stubborn old man. You always act as though nothing in this world can defeat you. How could you let someone hurt you like this?

Her eyes grew moist, but she quickly lowered her gaze when footsteps approached.

A nurse stopped before her with a folder. "Commander Laurel, these are the treatment records you requested. Some of the earlier instructions were issued under Madam Margaret’s authority, but several entries don’t have the attending doctor’s signature."

Laurel accepted the documents and began examining them. The more she read, the colder her expression became. Restrictions had been placed on Grandpa Wayne’s treatment even while his condition deteriorated, and the explanations provided were disturbingly vague.

"Keep the original records," Laurel instructed, returning the folder. "I also want the names of everyone who handled his medication, food, and drinks before he collapsed. Don’t confront anyone yet. Just collect the information quietly."

The nurse nodded and left, while Laurel remained standing beside the wall, considering what she had learned.

Margaret had seized authority, accused Enzo, imprisoned Stefan, and denied Ida the treatment she desperately needed. None of those actions could be ignored. But Laurel wanted evidence that would withstand scrutiny, not merely another accusation that divided the fortress.

"Laurel?"

She raised her head and found Chris approaching. His expression changed when he saw her leaning against the wall, and his gaze drifted instinctively towards the ward behind her.

"I heard Elder Wayne was poisoned," Chris said, stopping beside her. "How is he?"

"He’ll survive," Laurel answered, straightening herself. "I’ve already treated him, although he’ll need several days of observation before we can determine how well his heart recovers."

Chris nodded, but his attention remained on her face. The dark shadows beneath her eyes were more pronounced than he remembered, and even her voice sounded strained. He knew how stubborn she could be when someone’s life depended on her, but he was beginning to wonder whether she understood that her own life mattered just as much.

"And you?" he asked, his brows drawing together. "How are you holding up?"

Laurel gave him a faint smile. "I’m still standing, aren’t I?"

"That wasn’t what I asked," Chris replied, reaching out when she shifted her weight and briefly lost her balance. His hand settled around her elbow, steadying her without pulling her closer. "You’ve been treating patients since you returned. Have you eaten anything?"

Laurel hesitated, trying to remember. She had taken some water earlier, but food had been the last thing on her mind.

Chris sighed when he saw her expression. "I thought so. Come on, sit down for a while. The fortress won’t collapse because you rest for ten minutes."

Under ordinary circumstances, Laurel would have argued with him, perhaps even teased him for sounding like an old man. But she was genuinely tired, and the quiet concern in his voice made it difficult to refuse. She allowed him to guide her towards a bench near the nurses’ station, where he obtained some bread and warm water for her.

As she ate, Chris remained quiet beside her. Laurel found the silence unexpectedly comfortable.

She glanced at him and found him watching the medical personnel walking to and fro along the corridor. His expression was unusually serious, and she wondered whether he was worried about the injured soldiers or something else entirely.

"I was frightened earlier," Laurel admitted after a while, surprising even herself.

Chris turned towards her. "When you were treating the Elder?"

She nodded, slowly lowering the bread in her hand. "We don’t have the best relationship. He has made decisions about my life that I can never agree with, and sometimes I wonder whether he’ll ever understand me. But when I saw him lying there, I kept thinking about what would happen if he never opened his eyes again."

Her throat tightened, and she looked away. If it wasn’t because of Grandpa Wayne, the marriage between Alexander and her would have never happened.

Chris listened without interrupting. He had seen Laurel confront monsters and powerful enemies without hesitation, yet the woman sitting beside him now seemed painfully vulnerable. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew better than to dismiss her complicated feelings with some easy assurance.

"You don’t have to forgive everything he’s done to care about him," Chris said gently. "He’s still your grandfather-in-law." As he said the last word, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

Laurel looked at him, her eyes softening. "I know. I just wish things between us weren’t so difficult."

Chris felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest. He wanted to understand that part of her, although he wasn’t certain he had the right to ask.

Instead, he gestured towards the bread. "Finish eating. You can worry about the stubborn man after you’ve taken care of yourself."

Laurel laughed softly and continued eating.

Meanwhile, inside the ward, Vera sat beside Grandpa Wayne’s bed, holding his motionless hand between hers. His face looked older than she remembered, and the sight brought back memories of the many times she had complained about his strictness and resented his refusal to give her what she wanted.

"Grandpa, I’m sorry," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I didn’t think things would become like this."

She remembered Margaret’s confident smile, Felicia’s eager agreement, and her own reluctant decision to join them. She had convinced herself that Margaret would only make Grandpa sleep long enough for them to take control. Even when doubts troubled her, she had remained silent because she wanted the comfortable life she believed Laurel had stolen from them.

I knew it was wrong. I knew, and I still agreed.

Vera pressed Grandpa’s hand against her forehead, her shoulders trembling. She had never imagined that guilt could feel so suffocating. If Grandpa died, she would have to live knowing that she had helped make it possible. If he survived, she would have to face the man she had betrayed.

When she finally left the ward, her eyes were swollen and her steps unsteady. She noticed Laurel sitting with Chris farther along the corridor and hesitated, suddenly afraid of what she was about to do.

If I tell her, Aunt Margaret will never forgive me. But if I keep quiet, what kind of person will I become?

"Laurel," Vera called, approaching them with trembling hands. "There’s something I need to tell you."

Laurel immediately looked up, noticing the change in her expression. Chris remained seated beside her, watching quietly.

Vera swallowed hard before forcing herself to continue. "Before Grandpa collapsed, Aunt Margaret spoke to Felicia and me. She said that if Grandpa refused to give us authority, we should make him sleep for a very long time."

Laurel’s expression slowly hardened. "And what did you say?" she asked.

Vera lowered her head as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I told her it was wrong at first," she admitted, her voice breaking. "But in the end... I agreed to go along with her plan."