Chapter 58
“Yes, Sir!” the old housekeeper replied before walking away with the tray.
Nash let out a soft sigh, placing his hand over his heart. “Since the madam is awake, I shall not trouble you any longer. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if she feels unwell.”
Walter mirrored his gesture and replied, “Of course.”
With that, Nash and Brian made their way out of the villa, with Walter personally escorting them to the gates of the manor.
On the roadside, near the gates, the old butler poured a bottle of alcohol onto the tray and set it aflame.
Brian couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. The Traditional Medicine Association rarely encountered parasitic bugs of that nature. If they had been able to study them, it could have marked a breakthrough in holistic medicine, particularly in the area of parasitic research.
Walter, after walking them outside, placed his hand over his chest again and said, “This is where we part. I must return and attend to my wife.”
Nash and Brian nodded, smiling.
Just as Walter was about to turn back toward the villa, Nash called out, “Mr. Watson.”
Walter, thinking Nash had a few last instructions about his wife, quickly stopped and turned around. “Do you need something else, Dr. Calcraft?”
Nash grinned and said, “Make sure the princess drinks more hot water…”
Then, with a wave, he turned and walked away gracefully.
Walter stood there, his expression thoughtful as he watched Nash’s retreating figure.
Inside the villa, Queenie was slowly making her way down the stairs, gripping the handrail for support. Her face was pale, and her legs seemed weak. She clutched her stomach, cursing under her breath, “Damn you, Nash… I curse you never to find a wife!”
She couldn’t believe she had fallen for her own trick. She had been the one to slip the laxatives into Nash’s tea, yet somehow, he had switched their cups. How had he done it without her noticing?
Walter entered the room and noticed Queenie’s discomfort. Frowning, he asked, “Queenie, what’s wrong with you?”
Queenie, looking miserable, replied, “I must have made myself sick from the haggis soup.”
Without another word, she rushed toward the first-floor toilet.
Walter’s eyes twitched. “Dr. Calcraft told you to drink more hot water…”
There was a loud crash from the direction of the toilet.
Outside the manor, a Porsche was parked by the side of the road. The driver had gotten out to open the door for Brian.
Brian had invited Nash to visit the pharmacy, but Nash had declined with an excuse. Instead, Brian was left with no choice but to take Nash back to his apartment.
As they sat in the car, Brian cast a doubtful glance at Nash. “The Watsons have so many experts. Who could have given Mrs. Watson those bugs?”
Nash, crossing his legs and resting a hand on the car window, responded, “I initially thought it might have been a business rival or someone from within the family. But since Mr. Watson insisted on destroying the bugs, I’m starting to think that he’s the one behind it.”
Brian’s eyes widened in shock. “How… How is that possible? Mr. Watson has been married to only one woman his entire life. They have mutual respect for each other and have been together for years. How could he do something so treacherous?”
Nash smiled slightly. “Is it really treacherous?”
Brian blinked in confusion. “He put his wife into a coma for three years. Isn’t that treachery?”
Nash didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave Brian a knowing look that said more than words could convey.
Brian’s face flushed as he realized the implications of Nash’s words. “I see… Mrs. Watson didn’t die, she just fell into a deep sleep. If Mr. Watson had really wanted to kill her, she would’ve been dead.”
Despite this conclusion, Brian remained puzzled.
Walter didn’t want his wife dead, but it was clear he didn’t want her to live fully either. So, what exactly was his goal?
Half an hour later, Nash’s car pulled up outside his neighborhood. As he stepped out, he noticed a man standing at the gate, wearing a windbreaker.