Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 3
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – Ten Minutes to Redemption
Dr. Harrison’s face twisted with anger as he stepped between us. “Absolutely not! Ms. Ashworth, I cannot allow this—this charlatan to touch you.”
I held my ground despite the hammering of my heart. “I can perform the technique through clothing, but it won’t be as effective.”
The doctor’s face reddened. “This is outrageous!” He turned to the two stone-faced bodyguards by the door. “Remove this man immediately!”
The larger of the two men stepped forward, his expression making it clear he’d enjoy the task. I swallowed hard, my newfound confidence wavering. What was I thinking? I had nowhere to go, no one to help me if they threw me out.
“Wait.”
Isabelle’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. Everyone froze.
She studied me, her intelligent eyes searching for deception. Another coughing fit seized her, this one leaving her visibly weaker as she dabbed blood from her lips with a handkerchief.
“Ten minutes,” she finally said. “You have ten minutes to prove yourself, Mr. Knight.”
Dr. Harrison sputtered. “Ms. Ashworth, you can’t possibly—”
“I can and I will.” Her tone left no room for argument. “I’ve tried every conventional treatment available. If there’s even a small chance this works…” She turned to me. “Besides, if he’s a fraud, I’ll know soon enough and can report back to my grandfather.”
My heart sank. So that was it—she was just testing me to confirm I was a fraud. I couldn’t entirely blame her. Who would believe someone like me could help someone like her?
The bodyguards positioned themselves closer, their message clear: one wrong move and I was done.
Isabelle sat gracefully in a nearby armchair. “How should we proceed, Mr. Knight?”
I moved toward her, trying to hide how my hands trembled. “I’ll need to place my palm over your heart. You may feel warmth, maybe some discomfort as the blockages clear.”
She nodded and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her silk blouse, revealing the smooth skin of her upper chest while maintaining her modesty. The gesture was clinical, but my face burned with embarrassment nonetheless.
“This is absurd,” Dr. Harrison muttered, crossing his arms.
I ignored him and closed my eyes, recalling the knowledge that had somehow been downloaded into my brain. The meridian pathways appeared in my mind like glowing rivers, and I could see the blockages in Isabelle’s system as clearly as if they were physical objects before me.
I placed my palm gently against her skin, just above the modest neckline of her blouse. Her skin was warm and soft beneath my hand.
“Now what, miracle worker?” she asked, a hint of mockery in her tone.
“Please try to relax and breathe normally,” I murmured, focusing inward.
I’d never channeled qi before, but somehow I knew what to do. I focused on the energy center in my dantian, feeling the strange new power that had awakened within me. I guided a thread of that energy through my palm into Isabelle’s body, seeking the blocked meridians in her lungs.
The room faded away as I concentrated. I could sense the damaged pathways, the inflammation that had plagued her for years. Foreign particles had accumulated in her lungs—pollution, perhaps, or some other environmental toxin that her body couldn’t process.
Isabelle inhaled sharply. “It feels warm.”
I nodded but didn’t break my concentration. I directed the qi to surround the blockages, slowly dissolving them like ice under a gentle flame. But there was so much damage, far more than I had initially sensed. This would take time.
Minutes passed in silence. I was vaguely aware of Dr. Harrison checking his watch repeatedly, of the bodyguards shifting their weight impatiently.
“I don’t feel any different,” Isabelle said after several minutes, disappointment evident in her voice.
“Please,” I whispered, “give it time. The damage is extensive.”
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