Chapter 178
The boy's gaze swept over Evelyn Roland without a flicker of emotion.
Yet the moment his eyes landed on Sebastian Valdemar, his pupils constricted violently. His entire face contorted in an instant.
"Kill! You die!"
The hoarse child's voice exploded through the living room. Henry Laurent gripped his son's shoulders in shock.
"Hugo?"
This was the first complete sentence his son had uttered since falling ill.
Evelyn lightly pressed a fingertip to the boy's forehead.
The agitated Hugo suddenly stilled, tilting his small face upward in confusion.
"Hugo," she murmured softly.
Henry's head snapped up. "How did you know—"
"The 'Hugo' series fruit wines from your vineyard." Evelyn twirled a strand of the boy's hair between her fingers. "Quite a distinctive paternal tribute."
Sebastian lounged in the leather sofa, watching as the woman expertly lifted the child's eyelids.
"Not psychosis," she declared abruptly.
Her fingers traced the boy's neck, pausing over a slightly swollen lymph node.
"Chronic ricin poisoning."
Henry staggered backward, knocking over a crystal glass on the coffee table.
"Impossible..."
Sebastian was already striding toward the door.
"His bedroom."
Evelyn arched an eyebrow in surprise.
The man turned, his black trench coat slicing through the air.
"Poisoners don't chase their victims around to administer doses daily."
Henry collapsed to his knees.
"Miss Roland!" His forehead struck the marble floor with a sickening crack. "Save Hugo—"
A bead of blood welled at his temple.
The fourteen-year-old boy lay docile as a fledgling in Evelyn's arms—until Sebastian's retreating figure entered his line of sight.
"Kill!"
The scream tore from his ravaged vocal cords. Sebastian paused, then slowly turned with narrowed eyes.
"Interesting."
He advanced toward the boy, bending down until their faces were level.
"Do I know you?"
Hugo began convulsing violently. Evelyn immediately pressed her thumb to his Baihui point.
"Stop provoking him!"
When the housekeeper arrived in haste, she found Sebastian systematically examining the boy's pillow.
"Mr. Laurent," the middle-aged woman stammered, "I personally handle young master's bedding—"
Evelyn suddenly snatched up a stuffed bear from the bedside.
Brown powder sifted through a split seam, dusting her palm as cotton stuffing spilled out.
"Found it."