The Coma Prince’s Fiancée novel Chapter 42

Sophia didn’t bother beating around the bush. “Is it really just ash?”

Steven rolled his eyes. “It’s ash. If it were poison, I wouldn’t be standing here touching it.”

Harriet’s face instantly brightened. She turned to Shirley, sounding almost breathless with relief. “Did you hear that, Shirley? You’re not poisoned. Steven’s the best specialist in Harrisburg. You have to trust him, right?”

But Shirley was too far gone, her eyes glued to her swollen, blotchy hand. She kept shaking her head, refusing to believe it. “No way. My breathing’s getting faster, I can feel it. Something’s wrong... I know it.”

Steven’s patience was wearing thin. “Shirley, you need to calm down. You’re panicking so much that it’s making you think you can’t breathe. Sit down and rest for a few minutes. You’ll be fine.”

Harriet tried to help, reaching out to steady her, but Shirley pushed her aside so abruptly that Harriet nearly lost her balance. “I’m basically dying here. What’s the point in resting? You’re all lying to me!”

“Shirley!” Harriet was stunned by her stubbornness. She pressed on anyway. “Steven is literally the best doctor in Harrisburg. He knows exactly what he’s talking about.”

Shirley just shot her a sarcastic look. “Oh please. He’s Steven, but so what? He couldn’t even help with Mr. White’s condition. How do I know how long it’ll take him to make an antidote? What if I end up like that?”

At that, Norris’s face turned from blank to stormy, and the mood in the room shifted instantly, a heavy tension settling over everyone.

Ableson looked at Shirley with a stern warning in his voice. “Shirley, watch what you’re saying. Everyone knows Steven’s the best, and Norris’s legs are improving. You shouldn’t go making wild guesses like that.”

Norris’s cold, unreadable stare made Shirley shrink back, but she still clung to her story. “I don’t see any ash. So how do I know you’re not just making things up?”

Rebecca let out a mocking laugh. “Right. They’re all just lying to you.”

Shirley’s eyes widened. She looked genuinely terrified.

“If you’re determined to hear ‘poison,’” Rebecca said evenly, “then say it out loud and own what you just tried to do.”

Shirley stared, completely thrown.

Rebecca went on, as if talking about the weather. “I put the poison in your cup. But then you pushed it toward me on purpose, so I had to kick it away. Shirley, when did you get so clever?”

Frame her? Good luck with that.

Harriet caught her daughter, whose legs had almost given out. In just a few seconds, Harriet’s face had gone through a dozen different emotions. She wanted to defend Shirley, but not a single word would come out.

Shirley’s freak-out was like tossing a grenade in the middle of the room. The Whites’ servants stared at her, their faces a mix of shock, annoyance, and disgust, as if she was some rat plucked from the gutter and dumped out in public for everyone to gawk at.

So after all that drama, Shirley was the one crying wolf? She’d sounded so convincing that for a minute, even the maids had almost bought it.

Everyone knew how cutthroat rich heiresses could be, but this was The White Estate. Pulling these kinds of tricks here was basically asking for trouble.

Now, everyone’s attention swung to Rebecca.

This Ms. Russell was something else. When she calmly admitted she’d done it, the security guards’ faces went pale, and they looked like they were about to jump in and drag her out right then and there.