Chapter 1666: Hang On

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as fear settled in their hearts. “No wonder Mrs. Farwell’s arteries became so narrow,” someone muttered.

Peregrine, possessing keen hearing, lightly kicked the speaker’s leg. “Why didn't you investigate further if you’d already noticed that?”

The person, startled but not angered, felt embarrassed. Peregrine had been a role model in his youth; receiving a lesson from him was an honor. He lowered his head, explaining what had transpired the previous night. “We ran every test imaginable, but couldn't determine the cause of Mrs. Farwell's fluctuating arterial constriction. Only after your diagnosis did we understand.”

He continued, guiltily, “Mrs. Farwell was stable throughout her hospital stay until last night. She reverted to her initial condition after our treatment. Nothing seemed unusual.”

“The lack of anything unusual is the most unusual thing!” Peregrine, hands clasped behind his back, adopted a grave expression. “Dangerous changes are occurring, yet you doctors failed to recognize them!”

The other doctors remained silent, heads bowed. Peregrine regarded them as he might former students, meticulously explaining Roxanne's condition.

Some remained confused. “Old Mr. Lomax, we understand that, but what do we do now?”

Peregrine's brow furrowed. “Must you ask, after my clear explanation? Find a way to relax her arteries. Otherwise, she might not survive three more days!”

The doctors' hearts sank. They quickly nodded, returning to their tasks. Peregrine watched them, his gaze somber, tinged with disappointment.

“Old Mr. Lomax, how long do you think Roxanne will last?” Lucian’s voice, tinged with despair, broke the silence.

Peregrine, jolted back to reality, shook his head grimly. “Her prognosis isn't good.”

Lucian intently watched the elderly doctor, awaiting his continued assessment. Turning to the hospital bed, Peregrine asked, “Who is she to you?”

“Honestly, Roxanne is my wife, mother of my three children. I'll do anything to save her.” His words were respectful yet firm.

Peregrine’s frown deepened, though he wasn't offended by Lucian’s tone. “Frankly, you look ill.”

Lucian remained silent, his lips pursed. He hadn't slept or rested in two days; his eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, his face pale.

Peregrine spoke slowly, “She wouldn't have survived beyond a day or two if I hadn’t arrived.”

A spark of hope ignited in Lucian’s heart, only to be swiftly extinguished.

“But I can't formulate a plan immediately. I need to conduct further research.”

The light in Lucian’s eyes died. “Will… will Roxanne hang on until then?”