The Real Heiress Is Coming Back (Hannah Carter) novel Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

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Hannah watched the row of gleaming bald heads bowing in her direction. Her eyes, however, drifted coolly toward Magnus. “Care to explain?”

All she had done was perform a surgery. She was utterly baffled as to how that had somehow transformed her into Barnaby’s

wife.

Magnus watched in silent amusement as the typically reserved physicians fell over themselves with praise.

Their sudden shift from skepticism to outright admiration was almost comical.

Under the weight of Hannah’s questioning gaze, the doctors turned to Magnus with looks of silent accusation.

‘Well, Magnus thought, ‘Barnaby might not have won her over yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“They’re just impressed by your expertise,” he offered casually. “In fact, they were wondering if you might have any solutions for… premature hair loss.”

The implication hung in the air, much to the doctors’ discomfort.

Fatigue was beginning to settle in Hannah’s expression now that the intensity of the surgery had passed.

Still, she directed Percival to take Barnaby back to his room before retrieving her acupuncture kit.

“It’s true. The glare is rather dazzling,” she commented dryly, unrolling the kit on a bench in the corridor. “A serious blow to the medical profession’s overall aesthetics.”

To Magnus’ surprise, she seemed to be seriously considering his facetious suggestion about treating their baldness.

The physicians exchanged pained glances. They prided themselves on being above such superficial concerns, devoted entirely to the pursuit of medical knowledge.

Yet, if there truly was a solution to their hair loss…

None of them would actually refuse her help, should she offer it.

*****

Barnaby felt trapped in a suffocating darkness, a prison of his own mind where the ghosts of his past held sway.

There he was, a child again, staring at his mother’s body lying in a pool of blood while voices taunted him, branding him an illegitimate son.

The memories closed in on him, the servant who shattered his mother’s urn, the maid who held his head underwater, the cook who poisoned his meals, all leering at him with malicious grins.

Eyes burning with rage, he tightened his grip on the dagger and struck, again and again, until they finally backed away. He dropped the bloodied blade and turned to flee.

But no matter how far or frantically he ran, the darkness stretched on endlessly, a suffocating, lonely void. He was completely alone, trapped with no way out.

Fear, isolation, and despair began to crush him. Just as he felt himself breaking, a voice cut through the silence, a girl’s voice, calm and clear, yet hauntingly familiar.

He followed the sound, step by step, until at last, a glimmer of light appeared in the distance.

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10:57 Mon, Dec 22

Chapter 82

“Barnaby…”

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BE YOUGH

Barnaby’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal Hannah’s face, the very image that had occupied his thoughts day and night.

Her expression remained characteristically composed, though her long lashes dipped slightly, veiling the faint spark of relief in her eyes.

“I was about to fetch the needles if you slept any longer,” she remarked, her full lips curving almost imperceptibly.

As Barnaby closed his eyes again, a sharp, throbbing pain began to radiate from his left leg where the anesthesia was wearing

ofl.

The discomfort brought with it a wave of realization. This wasn’t one of his tortured dreams. His Hannah was here, and remarkably, his leg remained intact.

A weak smile touched his pale lips. “A kiss might have been more effective,” he murmured, his voice rough with disuse.

‘Really? Playing the sleeping prince now?’ Hannah thought with inward amusement.

Yet she couldn’t suppress the genuine relief that softened her features.

He’d awakened ahead of schedule, finally past the critical phase. For the first time since the surgery, she might actually get proper rest.

Yesterday’s ordeal replayed in her mind. She emerged from the operating theater exhausted and caught fitful sleep in the adjacent room, only to be haunted by images of Barnaby on the operating table.

“Did the fever affect your cognitive functions?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. His temperature had normalized at least.

As her hand withdrew, he caught her subtle fragrance moments before soft, warm lips brushed against his forehead in a fleeting touch.

Barnaby’s eyes snapped open to find Hannah already moving toward the door with her usual composure, as if the tender gesture had never occurred.

“Where are you going?” He attempted to rise, only to be met with blinding pain that made his vision swim.

Hannah immediately returned to his side, firmly guiding him back against the pillows. “If you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair, stay still.”

“Alright,” he conceded, a genuine smile gracing his features at her concern.

The telltale blush coloring her ears confirmed what he’d begun to wonder. That brief kiss had been real.

“What are you smiling at?” Hannah noticed the curve of his lips.

“You can’t just stir a man’s heart and walk away,” he said, fingers gently catching the fabric of her school uniform, the same one she’d worn for days now.

His deep eyes held hers, and combined with his pallid complexion, created such a pitiful image that few could remain unmoved.

Hannah’s ears burned crimson. She must have been momentarily insane to act so out of character.

She pulled his hand off her uniform, adopting her professional demeanor. “Let’s be clear. This isn’t about me. This is about you not trusting my medical expertise.”

Her words carried the unspoken hurt that he’d faced danger alone instead of confiding in her.

10:57 Mon, Dec 22 G J Q ·

Chapter 82

Though truth be told, she couldn’t claim complete trust either. Theirs remained a partnership of convenience, nothing

more.

“Hedy’s been alone at the house too long. I should check on him,” she said, turning to leave. “Rest well.”

Barnaby watched her retreat until the door clicked shut, the pain in his leg suddenly feeling more acute.

His silence hadn’t stemmed from distrust of her skills, but from wanting to shield her from worry.

As Hannah departed, Percival and Magnus entered.

“Barnaby, what did you say to Hannah? She seemed pretty upset when she left,” Magnus inquired.

Barnaby’s gaze sharpened. “Which of you contacted her?”

Percival set the food and medicine on the table and gestured toward Magnus.

Raising a hesitant hand, Magnus explained, “You were in really bad shape, mate. We weren’t sure you’d pull through, so I thought… better let Hannah see you.”

89

He trailed off, suddenly aware of Barnaby’s glacial stare fixed on him. A cold shiver ran down his spine under the weight of that piercing gaze.

“Get things ready. I’m returning to Brynlock.” Barnaby gritted his teeth against the pain as he pushed himself upright.

“Out of the question,” Percival objected immediately. “You just had surgery. Your body needs rest.”

“Right,” Magnus chimed in. “Hannah specifically told us to keep an eye on you. You shouldn’t be moving around like this.”

Barnaby’s voice turned sharp. “I won’t repeat myself.”

His stern expression seemed to chill the very air in the hospital room. Recognizing his mounting anger, Magnus and Percival knew better than to protest further.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Magnus said hurriedly before stepping out.

With those simple words, Barnaby set everyone into frantic motion.

None of them understood his urgent need to return to Brynlock. Only Barnaby himself knew that if he didn’t get back soon, he’d rank lower in Hannah’s heart than the pet pig.

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