The rhythmic beeping of medical equipment pulled me back to consciousness. My eyelids felt impossibly heavy as I struggled to open them. When I finally did, I found myself in a room that looked nothing like a hospital. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath cream-colored walls adorned with tasteful paintings. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting golden light across what appeared to be a lavish bedroom.
“He’s waking up,” a woman’s voice said.
I turned my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck, to see a middle-aged woman in a crisp business suit standing near the door. Next to her was Isabelle Ashworth, the stunning woman who had given me the jade pendant before I blacked out.
“Ms. Ashworth, I still think taking him to an actual hospital would be more appropriate,” the older woman insisted.
Isabelle dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. “Thank you for your input, Margaret, but I’ve made my decision. The private doctor has already examined him.”
As Margaret left with visible disapproval, my mind raced through fragmented memories. The betrayal, Seraphina with Gideon, being thrown out of my home, and then… the strange pendant that had seemed to melt into my skin.
But there was something else—a dream so vivid it felt real.
In the dream, I’d stood in an endless field of swirling green mist. Before me was a regal man with features that somehow mirrored my own, though stronger, more defined.
“My son,” he had said, his voice resonating with power, “I had hoped you would awaken under better circumstances.”
“Who are you?” I’d asked.
“Your father, though I’ve been gone too long to claim that title with pride.” His eyes had narrowed with disappointment. “Look at you. Weak. Timid. A loser who let others define his worth.”
Each word had cut deeper than any physical blow.
“But blood calls to blood,” he’d continued. “And though you’ve squandered your potential, it’s not too late. My legacy is now yours—all my knowledge, all my power. Use it better than I did.”
Then pain had exploded in my chest as green energy poured into me, filling a void I hadn’t known existed—my dantian, the energy center of my body according to ancient texts I’d somehow suddenly understood.
“I won’t abandon you as the world has,” he’d said as the dream faded. “But neither will I coddle you. Rise, son. Become who you were meant to be.”
“Mr. Knight? Can you hear me?” Isabelle’s voice pulled me from the memory.
I blinked, focusing on her face. Up close, she was even more striking—flawless skin, intelligent eyes, and full lips pressed into a concerned line.
“Yes,” I managed, my voice hoarse. “Where am I?”
“My private residence in Havenwood City.” She moved closer, studying me with clinical detachment. “You collapsed after our meeting. I couldn’t leave you on the street in that condition.”
I struggled to sit up, surprised to find my body didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should have. “Thank you. That’s… unexpectedly kind.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t misunderstand. I merely fulfilled a family obligation.”
A sudden fit of coughing interrupted our conversation as Isabelle covered her mouth with a handkerchief. The attack seemed to wrack her entire body.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
She waved away my concern, but I noticed the handkerchief she quickly folded contained specks of blood.
“Chronic asthma,” she said dismissively. “I’ve had it since childhood. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
As she spoke, something strange happened. Knowledge flooded my mind—detailed understanding of respiratory conditions, meridian pathways, and precise acupressure points that could alleviate her symptoms. I saw her condition clearly, as if I could peer through her skin to the inflamed tissues beneath.
The dream hadn’t been just a dream. Whatever that jade pendant had done to me, it had changed something fundamental.
“I can help you,” I blurted out.
Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight)