Forced Marriage: My Wife, My Redemption-Chapter 158: She is poisoned...

Donald looked down at his trembling hand, then clenched it into a tight fist.

That scene replayed in his head again and again.

She had been fine. She had been smiling. And then suddenly, she was unconscious.

What had gone wrong?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brows furrowed deep in thought.

Was it something she ate? Or something she saw? Or was it something else—something far more serious and hidden?

He had spent the last hour pacing, trying to stay calm, trying not to think of the worst. But now, sitting in this cold room while doctors worked behind closed doors, the fear he had been holding back slowly began to overwhelm him.

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The drive to the hospital was quiet. No words were exchanged. No distractions. Just the low hum of the car’s engine and the soft rhythm of tires against the road.

Jessica sat in the back seat, her gaze fixed on the screen of her phone. The hospital had sent over Lady Matilda’s medical history, and she was reading through it slowly, carefully.

Her eyes scanned each line, her brows furrowing now and then. Her expression remained calm and unreadable, but her mind was filled with thoughts.

So many things didn’t add up.

As she read deeper, her thoughts drifted. This wasn’t just about the clinical terms and cold medical reports. Jessica wasn’t only trained in modern medicine—she had also been trained by her grandmother, who had taught her the deep, ancient methods of herbal and natural healing.

That training gave her a different way of looking at health. A different way of understanding illness. It allowed her to see things most doctors would miss.

"This isn’t right..." she murmured under her breath, reading over a section again. "These symptoms don’t match the conclusions. Not completely..."

She leaned back slightly, letting her mind sort through the puzzle. "I’ll have to examine her myself," she said softly. "Only then can I decide what’s really going on."

As they approached the hospital, Jessica’s body straightened, her posture poised. Her senses sharpened.

The car rolled into the parking lot and came to a smooth stop. Jessica looked around quickly and carefully. The building looked normal, but she never let her guard down.

She slid on her sunglasses, pushed open the door, and stepped out. The wind teased her hair gently, tossing a few strands across her face. But her stride remained steady, confident.

Inside, the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and she stepped in without hesitation. Her mind had already moved to her next steps.

When the elevator opened on the private floor, the dean was already there, waiting.

He gave her a small nod, respectful and serious. "You are here?" He said, falling in step beside her.

She returned the nod. "Take me to her."

Together, they walked down the hallway. The air was colder here. Quiet and heavy with tension. They reached the private ward, and the dean gently pushed the door open.

Inside, Donald Santiago was pacing. His tall frame moved back and forth like a caged lion. But the moment the door opened, he stopped.

His eyes landed on Jessica. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze swept over her slowly, almost as if trying to remember something lost. Her face, her posture, even the way she stood—he saw his sister in it all.

Jessica noticed the way he looked at her—so full of pain, worry, and regret. A kind of longing that made her chest tighten. She gave a small, respectful nod. "Mr. Santiago," she greeted calmly.

Donald blinked, coming back to the moment. He cleared his throat, the emotions in his eyes barely hidden. "Doctor... you’re finally here."

"I came as fast as I could," she replied, setting her bag down gently. "Where is she?"

He stepped aside and motioned toward the inner room. "Inside. She hasn’t woken up. The doctors said she will wake up in a while"

Jessica’s face remained calm, but inside, her heart ached. She didn’t know why the thought of Lady Matilda being unconscious bothered her so much. She had only met her recently, yet she felt something strong pulling her toward the older woman. Like they were connected somehow.

She turned to Donald. "I’ll examine her now. I need some space. Please give me a few minutes."

He nodded without protest. "Anything you need. I’ll be right outside." As he stepped out, Jessica walked toward the bed.

Lady Matilda lay still, her face pale, her breathing shallow. Machines beeped gently around her, keeping track of her heartbeat and oxygen levels.

Jessica sat beside the bed, took the older woman’s hand, and gently pressed her fingers against her wrist to feel her pulse.

It was weak, but steady.

Her other hand moved to Matilda’s forehead, then to her chest. She closed her eyes briefly, focusing—not just on the data, but on the energy, the signs that only someone trained in both modern and ancient medicine could recognize.

She whispered softly, "What happened to you?" Something was wrong. She could feel it—not just from the reports or the symptoms, but from her instincts.

This wasn’t just a health crisis. It felt like something administered to her, possibly intentional. She scribbled down several findings in her notepad while she calmly analyzed her findings.

After a quiet but intense examination, Jessica finally reached a disturbing conclusion.

"She’s been poisoned."

The words echoed in her mind, heavy and unsettling. Her hands paused for a moment, hovering over Lady Matilda’s still body. A deep frown settled on her face as her thoughts spiraled with confusion and concern.

Who would do this? Why?

What happened between yesterday and now?

Why a poison that damages the nerves slowly—what’s the end goal?

Her chest tightened as she tried to make sense of the situation. Slowly, she moved to dress Lady Matilda properly after the examination. But just as she reached for her arm, something caught her attention.

A bangle.

Delicate. Intricately carved. Almost like a handmade piece passed down through generations. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Jessica leaned in closer. The material, the design—it looked familiar. Too familiar. Her fingers brushed across the surface, and her breath caught slightly.

She didn’t need to examine it further to guess. It was likely made from the same material as the pendant she wore. And if she was right, the insignia etched into the bangle would match the one on her necklace too.

Jessica’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly shook her head and pushed the thought aside. "No... not now," she whispered to herself, gently covering the bangle back under the blanket.

She didn’t want to chase ghosts. Her life was already off balance—too much change, too much chaos. The past year had felt like one storm after another. Curiosity was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now.

All she could do was what she came here to do: treat her patient and report the findings.

That was it.

Still, her heart was uneasy. Why did this case feel personal? Why did she feel so... sad?

And why did she want so badly to find out who had done this?

"What is their goal?" she asked herself under her breath. "Why go through all this trouble...?"

With a quiet sigh, Jessica turned and walked toward the ward door. She gently pushed it open and stepped into the hallway—and was immediately met with a surprise.

The corridor was crowded.

Members of the Santiago family had gathered, filling the hallway with whispers and hushed voices. Every face carried an expression of concern, but Jessica’s sharp eyes saw more than just worry.

She saw calculation. Masks. People trying too hard to look anxious.

Pretenders, she thought.

No matter how well they acted, Jessica could sense the hidden tension. The silent power games. The cold distance in their eyes. She doubted there was even a drop of genuine love in that hallway.

Their presence didn’t comfort her. It unsettled her more.

She spotted Donald near the center of the group. He looked up the moment she appeared, his eyes searching her face for answers.

Without wasting time, she walked closer.

"Can I speak with you, Donald?" she said clearly, placing a strong emphasis on his name—sharp and deliberate.

Her tone left no room for argument.

The others stepped back slightly, unsure, maybe even offended. But Jessica didn’t look at them. She kept her eyes on Donald, who nodded quickly and stepped aside to follow her to a more private corner.

Once they were alone, she took a deep breath and faced him.

"She’s stable for now," she began calmly. "But I’ll be direct—your mother has been poisoned."

Donald’s eyes widened in horror. "Poisoned? Are you sure?"

"Yes," Jessica replied, her voice firm. "The signs are all there. The slow onset of common symptoms, her sudden collapse this morning. This wasn’t a natural occurrence. "

Donald’s face paled. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly shaken.

"You need to know who had access to her recently," Jessica added. "Meals, medications, visitors. Anything that seemed unusual."

His hands trembled slightly as he nodded. "I... I’ll check with the house staff. And the kitchen. I’ll get every detail."

"Good," Jessica said. "Because whoever did this... they weren’t just trying to scare her. They meant to kill her."

She saw the panic flash across his face, but also something else—anger. A deep, burning rage that was slowly rising.

Jessica didn’t say anything more. She turned slightly and looked back toward the ward door.

"I’ll send in the nurse to monitor her closely. And... Mr. Santiago," she said, softer this time, "be careful who you trust."