Patricia Torres, the middle-aged housekeeper, waited until Raegan stepped out before turning her sharp stare on Stephanie. She let out a short laugh and said, "Are you just going to stand there all day, country woman? If you think hanging around Raegan is going to get you anywhere with Mr. Elliott, you're wasting your time."
She had watched many women try their luck with Waylon, convinced that a quick wit or a pretty face would guarantee them a comfortable life.
Stephanie ignored her and fixed her gaze on the bleak sky outside the window.
"Raegan vanished just now. You must've had a hand in it, haven't you? If you know what's good for you, leave now before Mr. Elliott loses his patience!" Patricia didn't back down. She raised her voice.
Stephanie finally turned to her, her voice calm but steady. "I'm not going anywhere. The little girl's situation is serious. I was the one who rescued her from certain death, and I need to speak directly with her family."
Patricia couldn't hide her disbelief. The idea that this quiet young lady could pull off something that top doctors failed to do was almost funny.
Waylon had brought in specialists from everywhere, but Raegan never got any better. Patricia saw no reason to believe Stephanie could do what they couldn't.
"Get out, and don't even think about trying to take advantage of the Elliott family. If you're still here when Mr. Elliott shows up, you'll regret it."
Stephanie scoffed, though her worry for Raegan lingered. She replied, firm and unwavering, "Fine, I'll go if you insist. But if Raegan's health takes a turn because you wouldn't listen, nobody can fix that—not even a miracle."
Patricia's patience snapped, and she jabbed a finger at Stephanie. "Who do you think you are, talking like that? Are you trying to jinx Raegan? Somebody get her out of here—now!"
Her shout was the cue for a group of bodyguards, dressed in crisp black suits, to close in around Stephanie. Their heavy footsteps and blank expressions were meant to intimidate.
Stephanie found herself boxed in by the bodyguards, each one standing tall and brimming with confidence from years of training. Their hard stares never fazed her, though. She just measured them calmly, certain that no amount of muscle would make a difference.
Every thought in her mind centered on Raegan's fragile state—no one else there understood what needed to be done.
Stephanie glanced at the bodyguards dismissively, not taking them seriously at all. Before they could act, she moved with speed and precision. In the blink of an eye, the entire group hit the floor, left groaning and clutching at aching limbs.
Patricia could only gape at the scene, her disbelief plain. Even after seeing Stephanie drop a handful of trained men with little effort, she struggled to process it.
"You..."
Without a word, Stephanie pulled a notebook and a pen from her backpack. She scribbled down a careful list, tore out the page, and handed it to Patricia. "If you want Raegan stable, stick to this treatment for now."
Patricia, still stunned, took the paper with a trembling hand, unable to say anything more.
Not wasting another second, Stephanie brushed past her. She walked away with a quiet confidence, making her way to the elevator.
At that moment, another elevator opened across the hall.
A man appeared, gently holding Raegan by the hand as they stepped into view.
He was none other than Waylon Elliott himself.
A custom-made suit fit him flawlessly, and his tall, lean build gave off an air of quiet authority. Sharp eyes sat beneath well-defined features, making him hard to overlook.
When he lifted his hand, the diamond cufflinks at his wrist caught the light and flashed.
Narrowing his gaze, he followed the direction Raegan was looking and asked, "Was that the one who helped you?"
By the time Raegan turned her head, the elevator doors had already slid shut.
Stephanie had been there seconds ago, yet she had vanished without a trace. Raegan instantly knew who was responsible.
Turning sharply, she glared at Patricia and shouted, "Did you force her to leave?"
Panic washed over Patricia as soon as she saw the look on Raegan's face.
Even in poor health, Raegan was sharp-minded. Her temper was well known in the household, and the staff had learned to tread carefully around her.
Only her brother and grandmother ever managed to calm her down.
Flustered, Patricia tried to explain herself, saying, "She-she looked so ordinary. I thought she was here to trick your family out of money, so I..."
Anger surged across Raegan's face as she cut her off. "And who gave you the right to decide she couldn't help me? While you were busy flattering important guests, I collapsed outside the hotel with no one around. If she hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't even be standing here now."
"Is that what happened?" Waylon's voice was ice-cold as he fixed Patricia with a piercing stare.
Patricia shrank beneath his gaze, her nerves betraying her. For a long moment, she couldn't force out a single word.
Without waiting for an answer, Waylon's command was sharp and final. "Take her away."
"Yes, sir." A pair of guards rushed to obey, grabbing Patricia by the arms. Her protests faded quickly as she was led down the hall and out of sight.
Raegan whirled around, urgency widening her eyes. "Waylon, please. You have to help me find her!"
"Don't worry." Waylon softened at the sight of his little sister's distress, his voice gentle for her alone. "I'll make sure she's found."
That promise brought relief to Raegan's face, and she nodded with hope.
Just then, a man hurried in and handed Waylon a slip of paper. "Sir, we found this. The woman who saved your sister left it behind."
Waylon studied the graceful script and the list of instructions carefully written out. Respect flickered in his eyes as he took in the clear, thorough medical notes. Whoever this woman was, her expertise was beyond question.
A sense of hope took root in his chest. If he could track her down, there was a real chance to save his sister.
