Chapter 178: The Opportunity Has Arrived

Chapter 178: Chapter 178: The Opportunity Has Arrived

Just then, a cell phone rang sharply.

Bill Young casually answered, his voice oozing with sycophantic charm. "Don’t worry, Miss Langley. The package has been safely delivered to Veridia. After I’ve had my fun, I’ll send her straight to Heaven on Earth."

"That... might not be a good idea. I’m not in the habit of livestreaming."

"If you’d like, I can record a video and send it to you."

Vesper Grayson’s heart leaped into her throat.

’Langley?’

She racked her brain, but she couldn’t recall ever knowing a woman with that surname, let alone making an enemy with such an irreconcilable grudge against her.

She carefully cracked open her eyelids and took in the burly, bear-like frame of the man before her. She knew a head-on confrontation would be hopeless.

If she failed and angered him, she would be damned to a point of no return.

For now, her only choice was to remain calm and wait for him to lower his guard. She needed him to get close so she could strike with a silver needle and create an opportunity to escape.

After ending the call, Bill Young switched on the video camera and placed the phone dead center at the foot of the bed.

He tore off his belt and lunged, impatiently leaning down to pin her.

In that critical instant, Vesper Grayson raised her hand, a silver needle between her fingers piercing precisely into the acupoint at the base of his skull.

To ensure it was a one-hit takedown, she struck with heavy force, holding nothing back.

In a flash, all the strength drained from Bill Young’s body. His limbs went stiff, then limp. His eyes flew open, and he stared at the woman before him, his gaze filled with horrified disbelief.

Vesper Grayson shoved him away forcefully. Her usually gentle, warm eyes were now as cold as winter stars, her gaze laced with a chilling frost that held not a single trace of warmth.

Bill Young crashed heavily onto the carpet, his vision blackening at the edges as a muffled groan of pain escaped his throat. He struggled to raise a hand to grab her, but his limbs were weak and unresponsive. Finally, his world went black, and he passed out completely.

Not daring to delay for even a second, she snatched Bill Young’s phone and hurried out of the room.

To avoid being seen, she deliberately avoided the elevator and made her way down the emergency stairwell.

Halfway down, she spotted a cleaning cart parked in a corner, a janitor’s uniform carelessly draped over it. A look of resolve flashed in her eyes. She quickly changed into the work clothes, efficiently tying up her long hair, pulling on the janitor’s cap, and putting on a face mask. The inconspicuous outfit completely concealed her face and figure.

When she reached the ground floor, she saw another one of the kidnappers standing guard in the middle of the lobby.

’To get out, I either have to use cover to avoid his line of sight, or I have to find the hotel’s back exit.’

She stopped a passing waiter and quietly asked about the back exit. He informed her that it had been sealed off long ago; it was a dead-end alley with no way through.

Hearing this, Vesper Grayson’s heart sank, and a chill spread through her limbs.

A moment ago, she had tried to use the phone to call Jared Hawthorne for help, only to find it was restricted. It could only contact the person who hired them and couldn’t dial any other number. She had immediately tossed it into a trash can in the hallway.

Now she was penniless, cut off from communication, and utterly alone. She had to rely on herself.

Vesper Grayson forced down the panic rising in her heart, reminding herself to stay calm. ’Even in a desperate situation, there has to be a way out.’

Just then, a flurry of panicked shouts erupted in the lobby. The noise level spiked as people in the crowd surged forward to see what was happening.

The kidnapper on guard in the lobby frowned at the commotion. He quickly pulled out his phone, made a call, then turned and strode toward the elevator.

’This is my chance!’

The very instant the man stepped into the elevator, Vesper Grayson used the cover of the bustling crowd to lower her head and quietly shuffle toward the exit.

"It’s the billionaire Jenson Whitman! What’s wrong with Mr. Whitman?"

"He was fine a second ago, then he suddenly clutched his chest and collapsed! It’s terrifying..."

Vesper Grayson’s steps faltered. She glanced over through a gap in the surging crowd.

An elegantly dressed woman was clinging to a man in a suit, her voice trembling as she cried, "Lance, don’t scare me! Wake up..."

The man in her arms was pale as a sheet, his lips a sickly, ashen blue. He was desperately clutching the front of his shirt, pressing hard against his heart, his body wracked with obvious pain.

Jenson Whitman’s body was wracked with violent convulsions. He couldn’t stop himself from curling into a ball, as if an invisible hand were squeezing his heart. A piercing, twisting pain swept through him. Every breath was a short, ragged gasp, suffocating and sharp as a tearing blade.

A fine, cold sweat instantly soaked the hair on his forehead, trickling down his jaw and neck. All the color drained from his face, leaving it deathly pale and lifeless. The bluish-gray tint of his lips gave him the decaying look of someone on the verge of death.

His fingers dug into the fabric over the left side of his chest, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white. His body trembled uncontrollably as a pained, muffled grunt escaped his throat. His vision swam, and he felt like he could pass out at any moment.

He wanted to offer some reassurance, but when he opened his mouth, the pain was too intense to let him speak.

Watching the man’s agonizing state, Vesper Grayson immediately recognized the signs of an acute heart attack. A moment’s delay could lead to sudden death; his life was hanging by a thread.

Her instincts as a doctor instantly overrode her urgent need to escape. Without hesitation, she pushed through the panicked, crowded onlookers and strode forward. Her cool voice, filled with an authority that could not be questioned, rang out across the lobby.

"Everyone back away! Don’t crowd him! He needs air, and don’t move him!"

Startled by her calm and confident aura, the crowd instinctively backed away, clearing a space around the man.

"Are you a doctor? Please, save my husband! If you can save him, I’ll do anything to repay you!" the woman beside him pleaded, looking at her with tear-filled eyes.

"I know medicine. He’s having an acute heart attack. Any more delays and it’ll be too late!" Vesper Grayson said urgently.

She quickly knelt, her fingertips lightly touching Jenson Whitman’s wrist. She confirmed his pulse was erratic and faint before pulling a silver needle she had concealed in her sleeve.

Vesper Grayson’s gaze was sharp and focused, all traces of panic gone. Her fingers, steady as a rock, held the needle. After quickly sterilizing it, she inserted it with precision.

First, she pierced the Pericardium Acupoint on his wrist to stabilize his agitated heart meridian. Next, she inserted a needle into the acupoint in the center of his chest to clear his qi and relieve the constricting pain. Finally, she needled the point on his philtrum to keep him from losing his last thread of consciousness.

The entire sequence was as fluid as flowing water, clean and efficient. In just a few dozen seconds, the emergency treatment was complete.

The surrounding crowd held their breath, their eyes wide in astonishment. No one dared to make a sound to disturb her.

The silver needles settled steadily, sinking inch by inch into the acupoints.

After just a moment, the suffocating, crushing pain in Jenson Whitman’s chest began to subside. His tense, curled-up body gradually relaxed. His short, ragged breaths slowly evened out.

The cold sweat covering his body began to dry. A touch of color returned to his deathly pale face, and the frightening blue-gray hue of his lips faded significantly.

The cloudy, unfocused look in his eyes slowly sharpened. His fingers, which had been clenched on his shirt, gradually loosened. The unbearable, twisting pain and the feeling of imminent suffocation completely vanished.

He managed to let out a long breath. The rise and fall of his chest stabilized as he recovered from the agonizing pain that had brought him to the brink of death.

"Lance, how are you feeling?" the woman asked, her voice choked with sobs.

Jenson Whitman shook his head and soothed her gently, "I’m fine. Don’t cry."

Vesper Grayson spoke in a serious tone, "I only used the needles as a temporary measure to clear his heart meridian, alleviate the acute symptoms, and save his life. The underlying risk of a heart attack is severe. This treats the symptoms, not the root cause. You must take him to the hospital immediately for a full examination. He will need long-term care after this. You can’t afford to be careless."

Hearing this, the woman immediately helped Jenson Whitman to his feet. "Let’s go. We’re going to the hospital right now."

An idea flickered in Vesper Grayson’s eyes. She stepped forward and said, "Let me help you."