JEFFERSON MANSION, URIEL'S ROOM.
Uriel's eyes snapped open, a shattering pain clawing behind them. He shoved himself upright, bracing his back against the headboard. "Bullshit!" he snapped, his gaze pinning the IV drip. "What the hell is this?"
Dr. Marcus approached, notepad in hand, reaching to check Uriel's temperature. Uriel slapped his hand away.
"Young master, you collapsed and have been running a fever since early morning," Marcus explained. Uriel rolled his eyes, nonchalantly tossing a towel onto the rug.
Uriel opened his mouth to retort, but his belly rumbled, cutting him off. "Where's Catherine?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice even.
"She's in Liverpool, attending a conference, but she said she'd call to check on you," Marcus replied, his head lowered, an unspoken concern etched in his expression.
Uriel studied him, then took a slow sip of water from his nightstand. "If you have something to say, Marcus, spit it out. Don't waste my time."
Marcus looked up, extending a test result. Uriel's eyes scanned the paper, freezing on a damning sentence. "What the fuck is this, Marcus? I asked what the problem was, not for something as unreasonable as this."
Marcus swallowed hard, his body tensing at Uriel's fierce, arrogant tone. "Young master, my family has served as doctors for this family for generations, as have I. I wouldn't dare lie to you," he said, his voice low. "This report was discreetly brought in just an hour ago. It shows foreign chemical matter and sedative traces in your blood."
Uriel was stunned, but maintained his composure. "So you're saying I've been poisoned? And that my friends poisoned me?" he accused. Dr. Marcus recoiled fearfully. "Is that what you're saying?"
"No, I wouldn't dare, young master, and you know it. The drugs listed on the results are strong, used in psychiatric medications," he stammered. Uriel's gaze remained indifferent. "Sir, these aren't just traces; a significant amount of your blood has been contaminated. They're toxic."
"How toxic?" Uriel asked, his voice a honing blade.
"The drugs are immensely strong and potent. They cause severe reactions: fatigue, hallucinations, depression, bipolar disorder, even heart failure. These types of drugs are used to suppress IED symptoms or ADHD," Marcus replied. Uriel gave a curt nod. "I suggest you stop taking these psychiatric drugs and opt for rehab or therapy instead."
Uriel laughed maniacally. "Thanks for the suggestion, Marcus. I'd do just that, if only I took orders from anyone." He clapped once, reaching for a black card on his nightstand. "I heard your daughter needs money for her wedding dress, and your son for his education."
"Yes, young master," Marcus answered, hesitantly taking the black card. "Are you trying to bribe me, sir?"
Uriel's gaze narrowed in disapproval. "This is a token of my goodwill, not bribery, Dr. Marcus," he stated flatly. "There's five million pounds on that card. With that money, you could do a lot. I'm helping you. In exchange, you are not to tell anyone about our discussion – not even Catherine. You must take this to your grave."
Dr. Marcus stared at the black card, his mouth dry, throat contracting, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Yes, young master. No one will hear of this matter." He quickly concealed the card as the head maid, Mariah, entered.
Mariah paused, her eyes briefly meeting Marcus's, which quickly darted away, before she turned to Uriel's ferocious gaze. "You didn't knock, Mariah. Who gave you permission?" Uriel pointed out angrily. "My room is no playground. Next time, I'll have you leave this house."
"I'm so sorry, young master. It was my ignorance, my lack of oversight," she apologized, her voice barely a whisper. "It's past breakfast, and your dinner is ready."
Dr. Marcus's throat dried further as he hurriedly exited, leaving Mariah in a daze, her head silently lowered. "I'm not eating at home tonight, so eat it yourselves," Uriel ordered, ripping the IV drip from his veins, shocking Mariah.
"Where are you going, young master?" she asked, but was silenced by his sharp gaze.
"You know more than anything not to ask about my whereabouts," he warned, his voice a low growl.
Mariah stepped back, not wanting to utter another word. She backed out of the room, leaving Uriel behind as she quietly shut the door.
Uriel strode out of the room, his steps quiet, perfect, and demanding. He snatched his car keys from the waiting guard, pressing the car button. His white Lamborghini blared in the distance, its piercing sound filling the air. He slipped into the car, turning the keys, and the engine roared to life. He veered off from the mansion in a heartbeat, leaving everyone stunned.
He didn't know where he was headed, but one thing was for sure: he had only one location in mind, and that was the café where Megara worked.
MILLICENT'S HOUSE- LATER EVENING.
Lucas Shaw burst through the door, his voice ringing with excited endearment as he called out for Millicent. But she was rigid, consumed by her anger, and offered only a silent, stony glare before crossing her legs.
Their daughter, Lacey, rushed to Lucas, wrapping her arms around him. "Dad," she whispered, glancing pointedly towards the stairs. "They're just here to leech off us!"
Lucas, bewildered, looked to Millicent for an explanation. "It's just my useless brother," she interjected, her voice sharp. "Came to me for help instead of bothering someone else."
He looked flabbergasted at his wife and Lacey. "Denver's here? Where is he? I've been wanting to meet him forever!" He announced joyfully, settling onto the couch. "Lacey, go call him downstairs! Tell him I'm here!"
Lacey stomped her feet angrily, rolling her eyes at her father, rushing over to her mum's side. "Mum, Dad's making me call those two losers downstairs. He should go hire a maid to do all that." She pouted begrudgingly, but Millicent stroked her hair behind her ear.
Millicent gave her husband a sharp glare. "Are you insane, Lucas? I told you to hire a maid around here, but you refused." She pointed out, and Lucas's face hardened. "My daughter will not call that outcast downstairs."
The tension in the air turned hostile. Defiance and audacity mingled with the silent tension of the house. "No need to send anyone to call me, I'm already here, Lucas." Mr. Smith's voice sliced through the atmosphere. "Millicent, it's quite nice that you think I'm an outcast, but could you lend me back the money you spent shopping today?"
Millicent was stunned beyond disbelief as she stared at her husband, guilt eating her up as she hid her red manicured nails and the new necklace she wore around her neck, and so did Lacey.