Chapter 367

The Duchess paced the hallway, her stiletto heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

She glanced repeatedly at the closed door, her fingers twisting a silk scarf in restless agitation.

"Two hours already..."

The butler offered her a cup of tea, but she waved him away.

Inside the room, Vivian Laurent sat across from Fiona Grandelle, a coffee table separating them.

Fiona tapped her fingernails against the rim of her teacup, her gaze distant and unfocused.

"How much do you remember about last night?"

Vivian's voice was soft, almost cautious.

Fiona's head snapped up, her eyes sharpening. "You've been investigating me?"

"Just concerned."

The teacup slammed onto the table, spilling droplets of tea.

"I don't need—"

Her words cut off abruptly as her expression went blank. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Vivian noticed instantly.

"Headache?"

Fiona didn't answer, but the sweat beading at her temples said enough.

Outside, rapid footsteps approached.

"Your Grace, please—Dr. Luna said not to disturb—"

"That's my daughter in there!"

The door burst open just as Vivian tucked away her stethoscope.

"She needs rest."

The Duchess rushed to Fiona's side, finding her asleep, her breathing steady.

"But—"

"Let's talk outside."

In the hallway, Vivian got straight to the point. "How has her sleep been lately?"

"Strange. Sometimes she sleeps for hours but wakes up exhausted."

The Duchess frowned. "And..."

"And what?"

"Objects in her room... they move on their own."

Vivian nodded thoughtfully.

"I'll need to run more tests, but there's a condition."

"Name it."

"No one can know I was here."

Though puzzled, the Duchess agreed.

As Vivian hailed a cab outside the hotel, her phone buzzed.

"Three million just cleared!" Isabella Langley's voice was giddy. "What kind of illness pays that well?"

"That armed girl you saw last night."

"What? That psy— Wait, she's the Duchess's daughter?"

Vivian slid into the taxi.

"More accurately, one version of her."