Chapter 251

“Yes,” Dorian replied immediately, his expression turning serious. He nodded repeatedly before exiting. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the other bodyguards, and the group marched out in unison. Odalys quickly followed, while Percival strode toward the house. Noticing she was falling behind, he instinctively slowed his pace. Once Odalys caught up, they entered the living room together. The servants had already set the table, nearly covering the entire dining room with a spread of home-cooked dishes—each one a favorite of Odalys's, many of which she particularly loved.

“Dorian knows you’re a foodie, so he learned how to make a few dishes for you. You should try them,” Percival said softly.

He casually unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves, exposing a portion of his wrist. Odalys washed her hands and, approaching the table, saw all her favorite dishes laid out before her. Despite not feeling hungry earlier, her stomach grumbled loudly. She glanced at the spread and named each dish, noting a few unfamiliar ones as well.

When the soup was served, Percival filled a bowl and handed it to her, placing her fork beside it. “Have some soup first,” he suggested.

Odalys took a small sip. The rich, savory broth warmed her stomach, and her appetite awoke immediately. “This bone soup…made from medicinal herbs…it’s really good,” she murmured.

Percival, still holding the fork, served her more food. Odalys, without hesitation, picked out dishes she liked, only to realize they were all favorites, leaving her struggling to decide what to eat first.

“Slow down. If you want more, we can have him make it again tomorrow,” Percival chuckled softly, his voice filled with affection. Though she ate quickly, Odalys’s movements remained graceful, and her delicate mannerisms made her all the more charming to him. Percival couldn’t help but smile as he watched her.

He finished eating first, sitting back and occasionally serving her more food. The servants stood nearby, exchanging glances and quietly smiling as they took pictures and videos to send to Evander.

Odalys, finally feeling full, paused. “If I keep eating like this, I’m going to lose my waistline,” she joked.

Percival handed her a warm towel. As she wiped her hands, he laughed softly and said, “You’re so thin, there’s no need to worry about your waistline. Health is more important.”

“You’re right,” Odalys smiled, feeling a bit like a child being pampered by him.

“It’s getting late. I’m going to head back to my room,” Percival said, his voice low and strained. He clenched his fist, forcing himself to remain composed. He knew that if he didn’t get to his room soon, his body wouldn’t hold up much longer. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he barely suppressed the urge to vomit blood. His expression darkened as he stood abruptly, his movements faltering, and he nearly stumbled as he made his way upstairs.

Once inside his room, he slammed the door shut. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, his body trembling as he leaned on the desk for support. After a moment, he wiped his lips and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The sight of his powerful, muscular body was a stark contrast to the faint blue veins popping from his skin. They seemed ready to burst, as if his body was rebelling against the poison. He closed his eyes, and a small, bitter laugh escaped his lips. It had been almost two weeks since he last felt the pain of the poison, and in his haze, he had almost forgotten how close he was to death.

Chapter 251 (Continued)

Percival let out a hoarse laugh, his voice laced with bitterness. Lifting a hand, he wiped the blood from his lips and turned on the faucet, letting the water cascade over him. But his body, refusing to obey him, slammed against the wall beside him with a loud thud. His phone then began to vibrate, the ringtone echoing in the tiled room.

Percival shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and casually wrapped it around his waist, tying it at the hip. Heavy steps carried him out of the bathroom, where he bent down to pick up the phone lying on the floor. The number flashing on the screen made his fingers tighten around the device. He hesitated before answering.

“Percival, where the hell have you been? How dare you ignore my calls?” a furious woman’s voice shrieked.

Percival’s large hand gripped the phone firmly, his knuckles whitening. “What do you want?” he asked icily.

His indifferent response only fueled the woman’s rage. Her voice sharpened as she snapped, “What do I want! Is that the only time I can call you? Or have you deluded yourself into thinking you’re above me now! If you still recognize me as your mother, you’ll drag yourself to my apartment this instant.”

Percival let out another low laugh, this time hollow and desolate. “You’ve always despised the Stewart family. Why marry my father in the first place? Just because you’re my biological mother, I’ve tolerated your behavior. But this is the last time. From now on, don’t push your luck.” His voice was a steady warning, cold and deliberate.

The woman’s fury deepened. Her tone turned razor-sharp. “Is that how you talk to me? What, you think being close to death gives you a free pass to disrespect me?” she sneered. “Then again, I suppose it’s fitting. The Stewart family has always been a wretched bunch, and none of you deserve a good end. But before you die, you’ll drag yourself here!” she demanded.

Percival’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned bloodless, trembling with restrained fury. He closed his eyes slowly, suppressing the storm inside, and without another word, ended the call. The phone clattered onto the table as he tossed it aside. He moved to the floor-to-ceiling window, his tall frame casting a shadow against the glass.

Percival knew the poison in his veins had reached its breaking point. It wouldn’t be long before it tore through his skin, ravaging what little remained intact. And with it, his end drew nearer.

“Callum,” he muttered.

Just as the name escaped his lips, Callum rushed into the room, his eyes widening in horror at Percival’s state. “Mr. Stewart… I’m going to get Odalys,” Callum stammered, visibly shaken. He had seen Percival go through these episodes before. Every time, it nearly cost him his life. Without the medicine from the Lark family, he would have been dead long ago. No ordinary person could endure such pain. Childbirth was a walk in the park compared to the suffering Percival endured. It was far more dangerous than anyone could imagine, and it recurred every week.