Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Chapter 150

When Whitney arrived at the scene, Braxton had already been whisked away to a private hospital, and a crowd had gathered at the gates of the Tarrington Mansion. Braxton was a pillar of the community and head of the city’s administration, and many from the police force, government, and competing corporations had all come together to speculate and gossip.

The gravity of the situation was undeniable; if Braxton were to pass, the scandal surrounding Ludwik would be impossible to contain.

The pressure from these political powers was immense, and there was no doubt that competitors were stirring trouble behind the scenes.

Whitney felt her head spinning, and the cold air she breathed did nothing to calm her nerves.

Braxton had suffered another stroke.

Her mother had taught her acupuncture, a skill Whitney had a natural gift for, especially when it came to treating the brain. Some of her techniques were beyond the explanation of medicine, yet they worked wonders, targeting mysterious points on the body.

As a child, Whitney had even heard her mother speak of using acupuncture to manipulate someone’s memory and temperament by controlling the nerves in the skull, a practice her mother never actually pursued.

Years ago, it was through acupuncture that she had treated a man suffering from nocturnal epilepsy, restoring him to health.

ཋ འཆ ྾རྗ ༠ཆ ༢༅ ༤

Clutching her hands tightly, Whitney’s gaze hardened, and she immediately instructed the driver to take her to Braxton’s private hospital.

At the hospital, Whitney could only make it as far as the foyer. Braxton’s room was at the end of a hallway teeming with well–wishers, with Tarrington relatives standing guard at the very back.

Doctors were bustling in and out as the situation grew increasingly dire.

Whitney could only catch snippets of conversation about Braxton’s condition – a ruptured blood vessel in his brain was causing a hemorrhage, compressing the nerves. They could not operate for fear of aggravating the injury, and he was in a coma, unlikely to survive the night.

The most esteemed neurosurgeons had been summoned, but even they were helpless, declaring Braxton’s time

B = F3 F S

was near.

Tears streaked the faces of Braxton’s relatives, who were at a loss for what to do.

She tried to approach but was halted by security, who mistook her for a press

not reach the room, let alone speak to anyone

paced the hospital entrance, checking her watch incessantly.

a man with an imposing figure hurried

Bang!

time to collide with the man. She nearly fell, but he quickly steadied

his worried eyes met hers, and he paused in

you to this hospital?” Whitney asked, looking pale and concerned.

of mine is gravely ill; he may not make it through the night. I was nearby for a function and came as

moment – Braxton.

mentor

hope. She grabbed Bryce’s sleeve, urgent. “Mr.

you also…” Bryce furrowed his brow. Then his expression shifted as he pieced together

Braxton was ill.

at her with a complex intensity. “Your man has been taken into police custody. Your

can cure Braxton!” Whitney insisted quickly.

to save him, you can’t just do as you please, Whitney. Human

on Braxton. They’ve written him off. for the night and refuse to operate, afraid of the

Bryce toward the room, speaking with urgency. “I have a unique acupuncture technique that can stem the bleeding in

a medical license?” Bryce asked, still

an alternative medicine license back at home.”

desperate

Lutz! Please…” Whitney reached for his sleeve, but Bryce walked past

in his eyes, Braxton’s son led Bryce into the room. “My father may not make it through the night. He always thinks highly of you; please, see him.”

Whitney’s words about Braxton’s

Bryce’s face turned ashen. His mentor was on the brink of brain death,

stepped out into the hallway,

dismissed the gathering of relatives and friends.

entrance, saw Bryce smoking in the chill of the hallway. She

lips pressed, Bryce stepped

anxiously on the

to a shadowed part of the hallway, his expression serious. “Is your