Chapter 145

Atlas immediately regretted his words. Finnian chuckled, staring coldly at Atlas. "I think Sophia's more skilled at enchanting people. If you're not afraid, let her enchant you. Maybe you'll enjoy her affection more then."

Enraged, Atlas lunged, punching Finnian to the ground. "Dammit," he muttered. But Finnian didn't back down. He flipped over, pinning Atlas and landing a punch. Blood seeped from Finnian's injured hand, dripping onto Atlas's face. Startled, Atlas grunted, too shocked to retaliate, taking the blow head-on.

"Enough!" Francis shouted. "If you two want to fight, take it outside. I'm trying to sleep here!"

Francis was irritated. He'd hoped to gain more fans, but was stuck with troublemakers. As an international model, he wasn't used to this chaos and regretted coming. He felt it would stain his career irrevocably.

"Finnian, just wait," Atlas grunted, pushing him off.

Francis lay back in bed as the hidden cameras in the room suddenly shut off.

(Online comments from viewers)

What the hell, they're fighting? This is crazy! Am I the only one who thinks Atlas has completely lost it? Did anyone else catch that? Finnian just admitted Sophia drugged him. The fever he had before! That was her doing too. Damn, Sophia's scary! Wait. Francis is kind of cool. He didn't let them sway him, and he didn't throw Group B under the bus either. He's got his head on straight. A rational man is way cooler. The Atlas out of his mind! It feels like he will pick a fight with everyone he doesn’t like!

Bored late-night viewers watching the livestream joked and discussed the unfolding events. After the fight, the audience was amused, particularly by the exchange between Finnian and Francis, which further revealed Sophia wasn't the universally loved figure she'd projected. Even Finnian and Francis seemed to want to distance themselves from her. Sophia's carefully crafted image had completely shattered.

Ah, now I really want to know who Sophia was supposed to marry! Who's the rich, dying person they mentioned? Someone needs to dig this up. Anyone with connections who can find out? Please share some info! Anyone who could marry Sophia is probably from a wealthy family. Sophia didn’t want to, so she forced Odalys to marry in her place. Someone! Track down this rich, dying guy!

With the livestream cut off, late-night viewers gossiped. They reviewed the stream, searching online for clues, but found nothing concrete. Thunder rumbled through the night, followed by flashes of lightning. The mountain night was cold, and Odalys lay on her side, listening to the rain against the window. She thought about Brandon, lost in contemplation.

Just then, a noise came from outside the door. It wasn't a knock, but sounded like someone was there. Selah and Freya, exhausted, slept soundly. The rain made the night peaceful, and they didn't wake. Odalys, however, was a light sleeper. She sat up, alert to the sound.

Grabbing an umbrella, she went outside and saw a figure standing there. His frail form looked even more weathered in the rain. He wasn't holding an umbrella but wore a wide-brimmed hat, soaked through, casting his shadow in a shroud.

"What's the matter?" Odalys asked softly.

Brandon stumbled toward her, glancing around nervously. "Don't worry," Odalys whispered. "Aside from us, everyone else is asleep, and there are no cameras." She'd used a talisman to block surveillance. Odalys had suspected Brandon would come. She'd blocked the hidden cameras.

Brandon didn't expect her to say that. Surprise flickered in his eyes. "Do you really know medicine?" he asked in a low voice.

Odalys nodded thoughtfully. "Of course."

"Ms. Stone, would you be willing to help me check on my son?" Brandon's voice trembled, his usually calm eyes showing a hint of panic. His eyes were red, and his voice cracked as he said, "My son is not going to make it."

Odalys said nothing. She started walking toward his house. Noticing Brandon was frozen, she looked back, holding her umbrella. "Aren't you coming?"

"I'm coming," Brandon said, confused. He hurried to follow her.

They returned to the house. Brandon pushed the door open, splashing in the rainwater, his clothes soaked, but he didn't seem to care. He hurried inside and switched on the lights.

The dim light revealed a faint fragrance, likely an attempt to mask the smell of medicine. But with prolonged use, the smell was strong and couldn't be covered. Odalys closed her umbrella and stepped inside. She noticed the living room was simple yet tasteful, with antique vases, chairs, and decorations.

Brandon walked to a side bedroom and stopped at the bedside. "My son has been sick for a long time. He's been taking medicine, but it hasn't helped. Today, he started running a high fever that won't go away, and he's been rambling tonight. I'm afraid he's beyond help," Brandon's voice cracked. Standing beside the bed, his hand tightly gripped the support rail.

Odalys stepped forward, eyeing the emaciated middle-aged man lying there, clearly suffering. She reached out and took his wrist, her fingers lightly pressing against it.

6:33 PM

Chapter 145

"He is poisoned so badly? Why didn't you take him for treatment?" Odalys asked, surprised.

Brandon looked at her with confusion, his lips trembling. "What poison! Isn't he just weak?"

"Weak? This is chronic poisoning," Odalys's voice sharpened. "This poison has lingered in his body for a long time. It only now exploded, overwhelming his body and causing this persistent fever."

Brandon staggered back, his face pale. With a thud, he collapsed onto the floor. "Not weakness? Poison? How could he be poisoned?" he murmured in a daze.

Odalys turned to the medicine tray, picked it up, sniffed it lightly, and handed it to him. "Here, this is the poison." "This medicine is a trigger. It continuously activates the poison inside his body, slowly building up until it eventually erupts," she explained. "At first, this chronic poison doesn't show significant symptoms. Initially, he might have dizziness, blurry vision, and constant nausea. If he went to the hospital, no one would detect anything wrong; they'd likely diagnose him as just being weak. A doctor might even say it was pigments from dyed fabrics affecting his health."