Chapter 557 Another Death Sentence
At the Hospital Entrance
Yvette clutched the plastic bag containing her medical records, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird. Her hands trembled slightly, her face drained of color, eyes betraying an anxiety she couldn't quite mask.
She pushed through the hospital's heavy doors, immediately hit by the sharp tang of disinfectant that made her nose wrinkle. What had once been a familiar, comforting scent now turned her stomach.
The bustling corridors filled with chattering voices and hurried footsteps only heightened her nerves as she gripped her medical files like a lifeline, weaving through the crowd toward the administrative wing.
Standing before a director's office, Yvette raised her knuckles to the door. "Mr. Moretti, may I come in?"
"Enter," came the response from within.
Yvette eased the door open and approached the man behind the desk with careful steps. Benjamin Moretti had been her mentor during her studies abroad, a specialist in this particular field.
"Mr. Moretti," Yvette began, her voice apologetic, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but you're the only expert I know in this area. I was hoping you might take a look at these for me."
"Of course," Benjamin smiled warmly, though his tone carried a note of melancholy. "You know, of all the students in that program abroad, you left the strongest impression on me. I never imagined we'd be meeting again under these circumstances."
Yvette's eyes dimmed, a coolness settling in their depths. "I hope I'll recover enough to face you again as your student someday."
Benjamin took the medical records from her hands and adjusted his glasses as he began to read. Yvette clasped her hands together, tension radiating through her frame.
Deep down, she knew this was likely a fool's errand. If Benjamin truly had a solution, Albert and Doyle would have found him long ago. In Luken, the Valdemar Group and Albert wielded absolute influence.
But she couldn't give up. Albert was fighting for her—she had to fight too.
Thirty minutes later
Yvette emerged from the hospital building, her steps heavy as if she were walking through quicksand. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting patterns on her shoulders, but it couldn't penetrate the darkness that had settled over her heart.
Her face was ashen, as though grief had drained every drop of blood from her veins, her eyes hollow and lifeless. She pressed her lips together, struggling to contain the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
Just as she'd feared, Benjamin had no answers either.
People flowed around her like water around a stone, but Yvette felt trapped in her own world, blind to everything beyond her despair. The memory of Benjamin's regretful shake of his head sent fresh waves of pain through her chest.
Moving like a sleepwalker, she reached her car where the driver held the door open. She slid inside mechanically, her movements robotic and distant.
The driver caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, concern creasing his features. "Mrs. Valdemar, is everything alright?"
Yvette forced herself to focus, struggling to mask her turmoil. Benjamin's words echoed in her mind: 'Your condition has remained remarkably stable, which is encouraging, but the prognosis moving forward is... concerning. Your priority now must be finding a targeted treatment.'
Of course she knew she needed treatment. But according to Clifford, the heavy metal radiation she'd been exposed to was completely uncharted territory. No one had even studied it, let alone developed medications for it.
It was another death sentence, delivered with clinical precision.
Though Yvette had braced herself for this outcome, acceptance still felt impossible. There was so much left undone, so many conversations with Albert left unfinished. She hadn't even seen her children grow up.
Taking a steadying breath, she addressed the driver. "I'm fine. I was just visiting a former professor. The hospital was crowded—I'm a bit tired, that's all."
"Please let me know if you feel unwell," he said gently.
"I will," Yvette replied softly. "Let's head home now."
"Of course, Mrs. Valdemar."
Albert sat at the center of the business dinner, surrounded by a circle of men who maintained a respectful distance from his commanding presence. His composure was unshakeable, his sharp features radiating an authority that made others think twice before approaching too casually.
As the evening progressed and wine flowed freely, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. Several men considered offering Albert a drink, but knowing glances from their colleagues quickly discouraged them. Anyone who met Albert's gaze seemed to instinctively understand the unspoken rule.
After all, in Luken, those foolish enough to pressure Albert into drinking at business functions had a tendency to... disappear from the scene entirely.
Suddenly, Albert rose and reached for an empty glass, pouring himself a measure of wine. He swirled the crimson liquid thoughtfully before draining it in one smooth motion—elegant, unhurried, without a trace of reluctance.
The entire table seemed to freeze, all eyes fixed on him in stunned silence.
Tony, the lead executive across from him, managed to find his voice. "Mr. Valdemar, this is... unexpected?"
Albert's lips curved into the faintest smile—barely perceptible, yet it sent ripples of surprise through the room. In all their years of business dealings, they'd never seen Albert smile, let alone drink voluntarily. What could possibly have put him in such good spirits?
Vincent, understanding the source of Albert's improved mood, raised his own glass and addressed the table. "Given how well our negotiations have progressed, Mr. Valdemar's toast was in celebration of our partnership."
Vincent's explanation sparked visible excitement around the table as everyone reached for their glasses to join the toast.
"In that case, we absolutely must drink to Mr. Valdemar's satisfaction!" someone declared enthusiastically.
Albert raised an eyebrow, his unusually good mood making him surprisingly accommodating. He tilted his head back and finished another glass, genuine amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
Yvette's car maintained a steady pace toward home, the driver having accelerated slightly out of concern for her comfort.
The sharp blast of a car horn shattered the peaceful drive. Before Yvette could process what was happening, the vehicle behind them had swerved aggressively into their lane, cutting directly in front of them.
The driver slammed the brakes, jolting them both forward. "My apologies, Mrs. Valdemar—that driver came out of nowhere."
He was already reaching for the door handle, ready to confront the reckless driver, when he glanced up and froze completely.
"Mrs. Valdemar," his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, "thank goodness we didn't collide."
Puzzled by his sudden change in demeanor, Yvette followed his gaze and immediately understood.
The driver cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's... Mr. Valdemar's car."
Who would dare complain about that?
Yvette could only shake her head in exasperation.
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