Everyone knew the truth, yet they chose to stay silent, allowing Gavin to bear the weight of being branded an illegitimate child. The Smith Family, who should have been his protectors, had instead become the very ones pushing him further into the fire of humiliation and suffering. George let out a heavy sigh. “Ma, the president no longer hopes for vindication or to clear his name. All he seeks now is the truth about who caused Madam Prudence’s death.” To Gavin, there was little difference between the Smith Family and the Stone Family. Both were willing to sacrifice anything—and anyone—for their own gain. Liza felt a lump in her throat and sniffled, her voice low as she replied, “I understand.” Later in the Bedroom George hovered nearby, his face etched with worry. “President, is the pain in your head getting worse?” he asked.Gavin didn’t respond, his expression taut with discomfort. His tightly furrowed brows and clenched fists revealed the immense pain he was enduring. Quietly, Liza entered the room, her heart sinking as she observed him. His face was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. The sight of him struggling left her feeling both helpless and enraged. George turned to her, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Ma, do you know everything now?” Liza approached Gavin cautiously, her eyes scanning his pained features. A sudden realization struck her. “Is it the poison acting up again?” George nodded grimly. “Yes. Every time the poison flares up, all we can do is wait for it to pass. He just has to endure it. There’s nothing we can do to ease his suffering.” Overwhelmed with emotion, Liza knelt beside Gavin. Gently, she reached out and stroked his cheek, hoping to offer even the smallest comfort. She could feel the torment he was enduring, and her heart ached for him.“Was it Lady Edna who poisoned him?” she asked quietly, her voice shaking with both anger and disbelief. George’s jaw tightened, his words dripping with contempt. “Who else could it be? She’s the only one capable of something so cruel. When the president was a child, she would lock him in a dark, tiny room for days on end. The poison was her way of ensuring he wouldn’t live long enough to pose a threat to her son inheriting the family fortune. But the president... he survived. Through sheer willpower, he endured what no child should have to. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have made it.” Liza felt her heart shatter as tears welled in her eyes. The thought of a young Gavin enduring such horrors left her both furious and heartbroken. But another question burned in her mind. “Gavin is Prudence’s son. How could the Smith Family turn a blind eye and allow a mistress to abuse the rightful child of their family?” George’s face darkened. “At the time, Old Master Smith was gravely ill, and the Smith Family was in chaos. Without a strong leader, no one had the authority or the courage to intervene. Eventually, Miss Prudence’s father took control of the family, but he despised his own daughter, Miss Prudence. Naturally, he had no concern for the president’s well-being.” He paused, his expression hardening further. “The Smith Family is far more complicated than you realize, Ma. It’s not impossible that they were directly involved in Madam Prudence’s death.” Liza’s eyes widened in shock, her breath hitching. Could the Smith Family truly have orchestrated the tragedy that shattered so many lives? If that were true, they were even more terrifying than the Stone Family. Her thoughts spiraled as she sat on the edge of the bed, processing George’s words. After he left, Liza turned her attention to an old diary—one that had belonged to her grandfather. The leather-bound diary showed its age, its pages yellowed but meticulously preserved. Carefully, Liza began to flip through its contents, hoping it would provide some clarity.Forty years ago, Old Master Smith had reached out to Liza’s grandfather, a renowned physician, seeking help for a seven-year-old Prudence, Gavin’s biological mother. Flipping through the aged diary, Liza found an entry that read: “She came to me too late. If it had been a year earlier, I might have saved her. But now, there is no cure.” Liza froze as she absorbed the words. She had always believed that Prudence’s poisoning occurred after her marriage into the Stone Family, but the diary revealed a much darker truth. The poisoning had started when she was just a child—around the same age Gavin had been when he, too, was poisoned. Why had they both been targeted so early in their lives? Was there a deeper, more sinister motive behind it? As these thoughts churned in her mind, Liza turned her attention to Gavin, whose forehead glistened with sweat from his struggle with the poison. Her heart ached as she wiped away the moisture and let out a soft sigh. If she couldn’t find a way to neutralize the poison in his system, she would have to rely on her most guarded secret—a skill passed down through her family lineage. As the descendant of a divine physician, Liza possessed a unique ability: her blood could counteract and cure any poison. However, the power came with its own risks. If word of her ability spread, she would become a target, hunted by those seeking to exploit her gift. She had always been cautious, hiding this secret even from those closest to her. But now, looking at Gavin’s pale and tormented face, she made a decision. Without hesitation, she closed the diary, set it aside, and retrieved a small, sharp knife. She drew it across her palm, allowing her blood to trickle down. Gently, she tipped the crimson drops into Gavin’s mouth. Moments passed, and his expression began to soften as the pain visibly ebbed away. Liza exhaled deeply, a wave of relief washing over her. The tension in her body gave way to exhaustion, and before she realized it, she had fallen asleep beside him. As the room fell silent, a gentle breeze stirred the diary’s pages, flipping it to the very last entry. The faded ink read: “Blood detoxification has unpredictable and immeasurable side effects.” The Next Morning Liza stirred awake, her body still heavy with fatigue. Blinking against the morning light, she realized she was lying on the bed. Wait… this was Gavin’s room. She struggled to recall the events of the previous night. After giving him her blood, the physical toll must have overwhelmed her, and she had fallen asleep. But she distinctly remembered curling up on the sofa. So, how did she end up on the bed? Confused, Liza sat up, her thoughts swirling as she tried to piece together what had happened after she lost consciousness.