True Heiress Returns to Her Unemployed Rich Family (Arabella) novel Chapter 547

"Yes." Arabella's expression turned serious.

She washed her hands, disinfected the equipment, and sterilized the acupuncture needles. Then, looking over at Dylan, she said calmly, "We're ready to begin."

"What are you doing?" Dylan trembled at the sight of the needles laid out neatly beside her.

"Treating you, of course." Arabella's pale fingers brushed lightly over the row of gleaming needles.

She knew exactly what Dylan feared most—acupuncture.

"Mom, I don't want her touching me. I don't!" Dylan was beginning to panic.

But by now, there was nothing Sarah could do to intervene. Any further obstruction would look like interference with medical procedure.

Arabella picked up one of the shorter needles, examined it, and remarked almost casually, "This one seems a bit too short."

She set it back down and selected a noticeably longer one instead.

"Stop right there!" Dylan's voice shook. "I don't want you treating me—get away from me!"

Arabella let out a cool, quiet laugh. "I'm afraid that's not your decision to make."

"You've already seen every specialist—local experts, even consultants flown in from overseas. But your condition is... uncommon. No one's been able to figure it out. So now it's my turn."

"You're not even a licensed doctor! What gives you the right?" Dylan shouted, desperation rising in his tone. "This isn't treatment—it's torture!"

"Well," Arabella sighed, almost theatrically, "what other choice do we have? We won't know if it works until we try."

"Try what?" Dylan nearly yelled. "Until you kill me?"

"Try to stay calm—getting worked up won't help your condition." Arabella waved the needle slightly in her hand. "Actually, this one doesn't seem quite right either. Let me choose another."

Her slender fingers hovered once more over the set of needles, moving slowly, deliberately, as if carefully considering each one.

With every slight movement of her hand, Dylan's heart lurched.

He watched, breath caught, as her fingers paused over the longest needle in the tray. She lifted it, its fine tip catching the light with a sterile gleam. Dylan's vision blurred, his head spun, and everything went dark.

"Hey—!"

"What happened?"

"The patient's passed out—someone help!"

Several doctors nearby rushed over to assist.

After some commotion, Dylan gradually came to.

Murmurs began spreading among those present, doubts slowly surfacing. The way Sarah and Dylan were behaving was raising eyebrows.

Sarah's face stiffened. She felt trapped, unsure what to do next.

"Mom, please..." Dylan tugged weakly at her sleeve, eyes wide with fear.

"It's going to be alright, sweetheart. Don't be scared." She patted his back soothingly, though her own heart was racing. The situation was slipping out of her control—what could she do now?

"Mrs. Johnston, I need you to move aside." Arabella was now standing directly before them.

Seeing the long needle glint in her hand, Dylan went ghostly pale.

"Mr. Johnston, there's no need to be afraid. I have a very gentle touch. Your condition likely stems from blocked energy and poor circulation. I'll apply some acupoint therapy to restore the flow—you should feel relief soon." Arabella kept her tone explanatory, almost conversational. "For this approach, we start with forty-nine needle insertions. If that doesn't fully resolve it, we move to eighty-one. And if we still need further treatment..."

"Stop—just stop talking!" Dylan was beyond terrified, on the verge of losing his composure completely.

Sarah cut in angrily, "Arabella, that's enough! He can't take this stress—he already fainted once. Are you trying to make him pass out again?"

As she spoke, Sarah subtly pressed Dylan's arm—a silent signal.

Dylan caught on immediately and let his body go limp, pretending to fade out of consciousness again.

But Arabella only replied smoothly, "Not to worry. Even if he faints, one needle from me will bring him right back."