One corner of Adrian’s mouth lifted in a mocking smile.
“So the so-called medical prodigy Genevieve Crane doesn’t even know high-purity Nexo-7 has to be detoxified first?
If this is the standard of your work, I’m not entrusting an important patient to your team.”
Before Rowena Crane could respond, Adrian ended the call.
His cool gaze settled on Genevieve.
“Dr.
Crane, surely you’re not claiming your medical judgment is better than your grandmother’s.”
Watching the Crane family themselves expose the “medical prodigy” they had worked so hard to promote was almost too satisfying.
Seeing Genevieve panic and Broderick’s earlier arrogance disappear, Elara smiled.
“Maybe she really does.”
Genevieve would never dare openly contradict her own grandmother.
After Adrian dismantled her credibility in front of so many doctors, humiliation burned through her, but she still had no choice but to apologize.
“I was careless, and I apologize.
Nexo-7 is extremely difficult to formulate, and reliable information about it is scarce.
Outside the pharmacists at Grandwell Apothecary, very few people would know that the high-purity form is toxic before detoxification.
But that has nothing to do with Tristan Ashford’s surgery.
I can still treat him.
Please give me one more chance.”
Adrian did not bother answering Genevieve.
He simply turned to Elara.
“The man you saved at school was Tristan Ashford, right?
He had a pneumothorax, and the follow-up exam uncovered another condition.
Would you be willing to take a look?”
Tristan’s face flashed through Elara’s mind.
For some reason, the man she had met only once had seemed faintly familiar.
Still, she did not agree.
“If it isn’t an unusually difficult case, send him to the military hospital for surgery.
The doctors there are good.
I’m not the only person who can operate on him.”
Adrian didn’t push her.
“Mm.”
Adrian tossed the fake drug straight into the trash.
His cold gaze swept over Broderick.
“Looks like both families behind this scheme are nothing more than a pack of second-rate frauds.”
Genevieve’s knees nearly buckled.
She caught herself against the wall and called after him, “Mr.
Whitmore!
The Crane family has an established reputation in medicine.
Rosalind deceived all of us.
I’ll ask my grandmother to prepare your medication personally, and I’ll bring it to your next case conference myself.”
Adrian stepped into the elevator with Elara and couldn’t even be bothered to look back once.
Broderick could not understand it.
Why did Adrian seem to take Elara’s opinion so seriously?
Whatever she said, he accepted without argument.
What exactly had happened between them?
Rosalind had never imagined the situation would turn against her so completely.
Before she could react, Abigail slapped her and snapped, “If you couldn’t make it, you should have admitted it.
You forged a drug instead.
Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Rosalind’s tears fell immediately.
“Dr.
Warnock, I’m sorry, I…”
“Save it.
I don’t want your excuses!” Abigail snapped, shoving her aside while cursing under her breath.
“Every benefit I promised you is gone.
Pack your things and get the hell out of my research team right now!”
Genevieve showed Rosalind no sympathy.
She turned to Broderick instead.
“Your sister has outdone herself.
Now that she’s dragged the Whitmores into this, the Weston family had better be ready for the consequences.”
After the scene finally ended and the others dispersed, Broderick confronted Rosalind in the hospital corridor without bothering to lower his voice.
Whatever affection he had felt for her as a brother had vanished in that moment.
“Rosalind, what were you thinking?
You actually forged a drug in a situation like this?
That was the Whitmore family from the capital—a military family powerful enough that even the president treats them with respect.
If they had bought that drug and Adrian had actually been injected with it, do you have any idea what the consequences would have been?”
The thought of the Weston family being shut out of high society entirely was enough to send a chill through Broderick.
He jabbed a finger at Rosalind’s nose.
“You’ve truly disappointed me.”
Rosalind was on the verge of cracking too.
“Broderick!
I was doing it for the family.
If I got the Crane family’s approval, wouldn’t that help you too?
I was thinking about all of us!”
Broderick snapped, “For the family?
Do you take the Whitmores for fools?
You really thought Adrian wouldn’t realize the formula was fake?”
Rosalind blurted out, voice shaking, “Elara said that on purpose!
If it weren’t for her, nobody would’ve found out the formula was fake at all!”
Broderick stared at Rosalind’s tear-streaked face and, for the first time, felt more irritated than protective.
She had become exhausting.
Elara, he found himself thinking, would never have argued with him like this or thrown a tantrum in his face.
His expression darkened.
“You’re still trying to argue?
Elara was the one who made that formula in the first place, and you took all the credit for yourself.
You made all of us misunderstand.”
Rosalind couldn’t face what he was saying, and even less could she admit that this was her fault.
She turned her head, burst into tears again, and ran off.
Broderick was still furious, but doubt began to creep in.
The sister they had dismissed as incapable had left the Weston family, ranked first in her exams, produced an extraordinarily valuable formula, and somehow earned the Whitmores’ attention.
Had she been hiding what she could do all these years?
And had they been far too quick to cast her out?
For the first time, Broderick felt a flicker of regret.
Before he could even figure out how they were supposed to apologize to the Whitmores, a colleague hurried over to find him and said anxiously, “Your brother’s condition has taken a bad turn.
Go check on him, now.”
Broderick’s expression changed.
He spun around and hurried toward the hospital room.
Evening was settling in when Adrian took Elara to Skyline Pavilion for dinner.
Among the guests in tailored suits and evening wear, Elara stood out in a simple hoodie and jeans.
Quite a few people glanced discreetly at the girl beside Adrian.
Her hoodie and jeans did nothing to diminish how striking she was.
Her expression remained composed, and despite the setting, she showed no trace of self-consciousness.
Adrian led her into a private room.
Elara stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the streams of traffic below.
“With your condition, you shouldn’t be eating anything too rich.
Keep it light.
I will too.”
After the server finished bringing out the dishes, another staff member respectfully placed a cake in front of Elara.
“This was made by the kitchen on short notice.
We hope it suits your taste.”
Elara looked at the cake.
It was exactly the same as the one Broderick had given Rosalind that morning.
She paused for a second in surprise, then looked across at the tall man sitting opposite her.
“Mine?”
“Yes.
Yours.” Adrian nodded, a rare softness entering his expression.
“Everyone deserves to have their birthday celebrated.”
Elara froze.
She had not expected him to piece together her birthday from a handful of small clues.
Her fingers tightened around the knife and fork.
She lowered her eyes slightly.
“That’s a shame.
Today isn’t actually my birthday.”
Adrian lifted a brow.
“Is that so?”
A mocking curve tugged at Elara’s lips.
“Ever since Rosalind came back to the Weston family, I stopped having a birthday of my own.”
In truth, her birthday and Rosalind’s were only two days apart.
But the Weston family never wanted to celebrate hers.
Every single year, when her birthday came around…