Rise of The Abandoned Husband (Liam Knight) novel Chapter 67

67 Chapter 67 – The Healer’s Gambit: Three Hours to Live

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67 Chapter 67 – The Healer’s Gambit: Three Hours to

Live

The study fell silent after my declaration. Leopold’s face paled, while Huxley’s expression hardened into something ugly and cold. The tension in the room was so thick I could almost taste it.

“How dare you question my diagnosis,” Huxley finally said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I’ve studied with the finest minds in Europa while you’ve been-

“I don’t care where you studied,” I cut him off. “I care about the patient upstairs who’s been misdiagnosed.”

Leopold stepped between us, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Mr. Knight, I appreciate your… concern. But Dr. Huxley has run extensive tests with equipment he brought from abroad. The hypoglycemia diagnosis-‘

“Is wrong,” I stated firmly. “Your wife doesn’t have hypoglycemia. She has a cerebral aneurysm that’s on the verge of rupturing.”

Jonah let out a bark of laughter. “This is ridiculous. Father, I think we’ve entertained this… this charlatan long enough.”

Huxley smiled thinly, reaching into his bag to pull out a small glass bottle filled with amber liquid. “Mr. Shepherd, I’ve prepared the first dose of Glycostat–X. Your wife should take it immediately. Every minute we delay—”

I moved so quickly that everyone in the room flinched. With one swift motion, I knocked the bottle from Huxley’s hand. It shattered against the hardwood floor, the liquid spreading in a small puddle.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Huxley shouted, his face flushing crimson. “Saving a woman’s life,” I replied calmly. “That medication would have killed her.”

Leopold’s expression shifted from shock to anger. “Mr. Knight, I invited you home as a guest-”

into my

“And I came because your wife is dying, Mr. Shepherd,” I said, meeting his gaze directly. “The symptoms you described–weakness, fatigue, dizziness, weight loss–these aren’t

67 Chapter 67 The Healer’s Gambit: Three Hours to Live

signs of hypoglycemia. Has she been experiencing severe headaches? Perhaps behind her left eye?”

Leopold’s silence was answer enough.

“Has she mentioned that lights seem too bright sometimes? Does she occasionally forget simple words mid–sentence?” I pressed.

Leopold’s face drained of color. “How… how could you know that? She hasn’t told anyone but me about the headaches.”

Huxley scoffed. “This is pure theatrics. Headaches are a common symptom of many

conditions.”

“Has she already been to the hospital?” I asked Leopold, ignoring Huxley entirely. Leopold nodded slowly. “Three times in the past two months. They ran tests but found nothing conclusive. Said it might be migraines or stress.”

“Because a cerebral aneurysm can be difficult to detect without the right imaging,” I explained. “It’s located in her anterior communicating artery. Small, but growing weaker by the hour.”

“This is absurd!” Huxley exclaimed. “You can’t possibly make that diagnosis without proper medical imaging. What are you claiming now–that you have X–ray vision?”

“I know what I know,” I said simply.

Leopold was looking between us, conflict clear in his eyes. “We… we did ask about the possibility of an aneurysm at the hospital. They did a CT scan that came back

negative.”

“Small aneurysms can be missed on standard CT scans,” I countered. “She needs immediate intervention.”

Eamon stepped forward. “Mr. Shepherd, I’ve worked with Dr. Knight long enough to know that when he makes a diagnosis this specific, he’s never wrong.”

Huxley laughed derisively. “Never wrong? Listen to yourselves. Medicine isn’t practiced through mystical insights. It requires rigorous testing, evidence, data.”

“And your evidence is what exactly?” I challenged. “Blood tests showing slightly low glucose levels that could be explained by dozens of different conditions?”

67 Chapter 67- The Healer’s Gambit: Three Hours to Live

“My credentials speak for themselves,” Huxley huffed.

“Credentials don’t heal patients,” I shot back.

Leopold raised his hands, his expression troubled. “Please, gentlemen. This isn’t helping Eleanor.”

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. “Mr. Shepherd, I understand your position. You want to make the safest choice for your wife. But I’m telling you, with absolute certainty, that she has an aneurysm that will rupture very soon without

intervention.”

Huxley reached back into his bag and produced another bottle. “Mr. Shepherd, I anticipated potential… complications. I’ve brought a backup dose. Your wife’s condition requires immediate treatment.”

Leopold looked at the bottle, then back at me. The weight of the decision was etched in every line of his face.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked me, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I can see what others can’t,” I answered honestly. “I know it sounds impossible, but I’m asking you to trust me.”

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