I Left Before He Learned My Worth novel Chapter 68

**TITLE: I Left Before He Learned My Worth**
**Chapter 68**

**ARIA**

38

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I found myself standing at the threshold of the clinic, ostensibly busy with the organization of supplies, but in reality, I was simply an observer. My gaze was fixed on Ivory as she moved with purpose from one patient to another, a leather-bound journal in her hands. She was a whirlwind of meticulousness, documenting every nuance of their recovery with a level of dedication that was both admirable and unsettling.

“Heart rate at ten minutes post-administration?” she inquired of the first healer, a woman named Sarah, whose arm bore the marks of a brutal mauling.

“It felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest,” Sarah confessed, her voice tinged with the remnants of fear. “But it calmed down after about five minutes, I think?”

Ivory swiftly jotted down a note, her handwriting impressively tidy despite the slight tremor that betrayed her own recent trauma. “Any nausea? Dizziness? Any unusual sensations you’ve experienced?”

“A little dizzy when I first woke up. It felt like the room was spinning around me. But that faded quickly,” Sarah replied, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalled the disorienting experience.

With each question, Ivory continued her systematic inquiry about pain levels, breathing difficulties, and the sensations accompanying the antidote as it coursed through Sarah’s system. Her thoroughness was commendable; she was operating in a clinical manner, entirely absorbed in her work, even though she had been on the brink of death less than an hour prior.

“And what about the lacerations?” Ivory asked as she moved closer to examine Sarah’s bandaged arm, her fingers gently probing the area. “Any burning or unusual pain around the wounds?”

“Just the usual healing pain, I believe. Nothing seems off,” Sarah reassured her, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes.

Ivory nodded, her expression serious as she continued her examination. “That’s good to hear. The antidote shouldn’t interfere with natural healing, but I wanted to confirm. If you notice any changes—like increased pain, unusual swelling, or discoloration—please inform Eliza immediately.”

With that, she transitioned to the next patient, repeating the entire process with unwavering focus. Each question was precise, every observation meticulously recorded. This wasn’t merely treatment; it was research. Ivory was harnessing this crisis as a chance to gather invaluable data, refining her understanding of the compounds she had painstakingly developed.

It was both brilliant and slightly unsettling to witness.

Suddenly, the clinic doors swung open, and I caught sight of Margo—my personal maid, whose disdain for me was often barely concealed—bursting into the room. Her frantic eyes darted around until they landed on Ivory, and in that instant, her entire demeanor shifted.

“Ivory!” Margo exclaimed, practically sprinting across the clinic, her usual rigid composure completely abandoned. “Gods, Ivory, I heard what happened. Are you alright? They said you were poisoned, that you nearly died—”

“I’m fine, Margo,” Ivory reassured her, and her voice carried a warmth I had never before witnessed. A genuine smile lit up her face—a stark contrast to the polite, professional mask she wore with most others. “Just a miscalculation with dosage. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious?” Margo’s voice rose, almost shrill with concern. “You could have died!”

“But I didn’t.” Ivory reached out, squeezing Margo’s hand with a comforting grip. “And because of those tests, your mother is recovering right now instead of succumbing to shock and blood loss.”

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