WIFE KICKED MILLIONAIRE MEDICAL GOD HUSBAND

Chapter Five

“It’s in the rhythm,” Lukas said, releasing her wrist. “I’ve studied plants and their effects on the body for years. Pulses tell stories: stress, toxins, imbalances. Your father’s pulse will tell me more.” He turned to Pieter, his hands moving with practiced precision, checking the older man’s vitals. The room watched, the skepticism shifting to curiosity.

“He’s been poisoned with something synthetic, likely a neurotoxin,” Lukas said after a moment. “It’s not in your tests because it’s rare, derived from a hybrid plant—maybe a lab-altered strain. I’ve seen it before, in small doses. I can counter it, but I’ll need specific roots. Viktor promised them.”

The doctor frowned, glancing at Amelie. “This is unorthodox. We can’t just—”

“Let him try,” Amelie interrupted, her voice softer now, her eyes locked on Lukas. “If he’s right about me, he might be right about Papa.”

Lukas stood at the bedside, his hands steady as he assessed the ailing executive. Pieter, pale and gaunt lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Lukas had identified it as a neurotoxin from a lab-altered plant, a diagnosis that shocked the medical team, yet their doubt remained.

Amelie, hovered nearby, her eyes filled with worry and doubt as she watched Lukas work. “You’re sure about this?” she asked, her voice low but pointed. “You’re not even a doctor.”

Lukas met her gaze, his eyes calm but unyielding. “I don’t need a degree to read the body,” he said. He gestured to her wrist, his fingers brushing her pulse point as he had before. “Your fatigue, your joint pain, I felt it here. Pieter’s pulse tells me the toxin’s spread, but it’s not too late. Trust me.”

Amelie hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but the memory of his earlier diagnosis, accurate to the point of eerie, silenced her. She nodded reluctantly, stepping back as Lukas turned to the nurse. “I need fine silver needles,” he said. “Acupuncture grade, sterile, eighteen of them. And a list of the roots Viktor Stahl sent, check the delivery.”

The nurse, a young woman with a skeptical frown, glanced at the head doctor, who shrugged but complied. The doctors watched as Lukas got ready, moving carefully, almost ritualistic. Sofia stood near the door, the French heiress, Viktor’s business partner, had been quiet since arriving. Her intervention in the lobby had freed him from Clara’s grasp, and now her silent support made him feel more determined.

The needles arrived, Lukas took a deep breath, his focus on Pieter’s body. He mapped the points in his mind: meridians where the toxin’s damage could be countered, energy redirected to stabilize the heart and lungs. He began placing the first needle at Pieter’s wrist, then another at his collarbone. One by one, eighteen silver needles pierced the skin.

The monitors beeped steadily, Pieter’s heart rate slowing, his breathing easing. The ward fell silent as the medical team’s doubt slowly turned into careful respect. Amelie’s eyes widened, her hands unclenching as she watched her father’s color improve, a faint flush returning to his cheeks. “It’s working,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Sofia’s lips curved into a faint smile, her voice low as she leaned toward Amelie. “Viktor was right about him. Your father’s lucky.”

Before Amelie could respond, the ward’s double doors swung open with a bang. Dr. Heinrich Voss, Rotterdam’s most celebrated physician, stormed in, his white coat flapping. His reputation preceded him: decades of accolades, a pioneer in toxicology, a man whose word was law in these halls. Behind him stood a group of residents, holding their clipboards tightly. Voss’s sharp blue eyes scanned the room and stopped at Lukas and the needles sticking out of Pieter’s skin.

“What is this nonsense?” Voss barked, his voice booming. “Acupuncture? In my hospital?” He strode to Pieter’s bedside, his gaze raking over the needles with disdain. “This is primitive quackery, who authorized this?”

Amelie stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. “I did. He’s stabilizing my father. Look at the monitors, his vitals are improving.”

Voss scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. “Improving? You’re being deceived by a charlatan.” He turned to Lukas, his tone dripping with condescension. “You. Herbalist. Step away from my patient.”

Lukas’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “The needles are countering the toxin,” he said, his voice steady. “Remove them, and you risk destabilizing him. I’ve seen this poison before. You haven’t.”

Voss’s face reddened, his authority challenged. “You presume to lecture me?” He gestured to his team. “Get those needles out. Now!” Before Lukas could protest, a resident stepped forward, yanking the first needle from Pieter’s wrist. Then another, and another, the silver glinting as they were tossed onto a tray with careless disregard.

The monitors screamed. Pieter’s body arched off the bed, a violent convulsion seizing him. Blood streamed from his nose, bright red against his pale skin, pooling on the white sheets. Amelie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as the room erupted into chaos. 

The monitors wailed, heart rate spiking, oxygen levels plummeting. Voss barked orders, his team scrambling to inject sedatives and adjust IV lines, but Pieter’s convulsions got worse, and his breathing became uneven and harsh.

“Stop!” Lukas shouted, shoving past a resident to reach Pieter. “You’re killing him!” But Voss’s glare silenced him, the doctor’s authority absolute.

“Do your job, Brandt,” Voss snapped. “Or get out.”

Sofia stepped forward, her voice cutting through the pandemonium. “Heinrich, you’re making a mistake. Lukas had him stable. You saw the monitors.”

Voss ignored her, his focus on Pieter as he pushed a syringe of epinephrine into the IV. The convulsions slowed, but Pieter’s vitals didn’t recover. The monitors continued their relentless alarm, the numbers flashing red. Amelie’s eyes darted between Voss and Lukas, her awe for the renowned doctor crumbling as her father’s life slipped further away. “Do something!” she cried, her voice breaking.

Voss’s team worked frantically, but their interventions: standard protocols for standard poisons were useless against the rare toxin. Lukas stood sidelined, he knew he’d been right. The needles had been working, balancing Pieter’s system, neutralizing the toxin’s grip. Voss’s arrogance had undone it all.

Sofia’s dark eyes met Lukas’s, her expression a mix of frustration and urgency. “You tried,” she said quietly, her French accent softening the words. “They should’ve listened.”

Amelie turned to Lukas, tears streaking her face. “Was he really stable? Could you have saved him?”