The True Heiress's Return

"Argh!" Walter let out a m***ed groan from deep in his throat, and his body began to tremble involuntarily. Shakira immediately sensed what was happening. "Is it starting?" she asked.

"Yeah," 'he hissed, his breath tightening.

The downpour outside had already begun, the sky too dark for Shakira to see his expression. But she could feel it clearly- Walter was shaking, suffering.

Shakira, forgetting her own fear, fumbled in the darkness for her phone. She found it, turned on the flashlight, and dashed to the door. She flung it open. "Brian! I need medicine. Give me he painkillers!"

Hurried footsteps quickly approached, and soon Brian appeared holding a flashlight as he rushed up the stairs. "Is Mr. Lopez having an episode?!"

He

was about to charge into the room when Shakira yanked his arm. "Going in won't help! Go get the medicine!"

The situation was so dire that Brian didn't even realize how strong Shakira's grip was as she shoved him back out of the doorway.

Frustrated and guilt-ridden, he stammered, "There's no medicing. Mr. Lopez's painkillers have to be stored in the freezer. Since the power went out, all the medicine in the manor is unusable, and the rest in the cellar needs an electronic lock to open. We can only get new stock from the Lopez family's private hospital!" Shakira pushed him again, fuming. "Then why are you still standing here?! Get to the hospital"

She slammed the door shut and rushed back to Walter's side. The light from the phone flashlight was stark white, but Walter's face looked even paler.

Shakira saw him struggling to endure the pain and quickly went to the bathroom, returning with a folded towel. She stuffed it into his mouth. Walter shot her a glare.

Shakira, exasperated, snapped, "Bite it! Now's not the time to act tough! Doesn't it hurt?"

A sarcastic smirk curled at his lips. He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and strained, "I can handle this kind of pain.

Shakira couldn't help o herself but yell at him, "Fine, let it kill you then."

Despite her sharp words, she pushed his wheelchair toward the bed. "Can you stand?"

Before Walter could respond, she reached for him. With her arms wrapped under his armpits, she stood face to face with him, bent her knees, and pulled him up with all her strength.

The pain pierced through him, deep into his bones, like it was tearing at his very soul. Yet Walter remained conscious. acutely aware of the woman in front of him. He saw her furrowed brow, tight with concentration. He wasn't sure if she found him troublesome, or if she was genuinely worried. Amazingly, even Walter was surprised that someone could distract him in a moment like this. But before he could dwell on it, a fresh wave of excruciating pain surged through him, and his body went limp.

Shakira didn't have time to adjust her stance before Walter collapsed onto her, sending both of them crashing onto the bed. They landed with a collective thud and groaned.

Shakira's head smacked into a soft pillow, and she heard Walter's groan above her. "Shakira, are you trying to kill me?"

"Surely I am," she muttered, letting out a long breath. With a swit roll, she gracefully slid off the bed.

Walter, still glaring at her, watched as she reached behind her back and pulled out a roll of silver acupuncture needles. She had given up hope that he would ever agree to acupuncture, but now, it seemed like the perfect moment. Seeing her movements, Walter's eyes sharpened in an instant. "Shakira, what are you doing?" "Acupuncture," she said.

"How dare you!" Walter shouted toward the door, "Brian!"

"Brian's gone to the private hospital for the painkillers. I locked the door. Scream all you want-no one's coming to save you," she said.

Shakira's slender, pale fingers brushed over the row of silver needles, suddenly stopping. She pulled out a needle as long as a finger, pressing one hand firmly on Walter's knee, which was reflexively curling up in pain. Walter's eyes widened slightly, and a flash of white light crossed his vision. Five minutes later, his body, which had been writhing in agony, began to relax without him even realizing it. Shakira handed him a few tissues. "Wipe yourself down." Walter glanced at

her

"Is that really necessary?Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

Shakira took a quick look at his sweat-soaked upper body and his lower half, which wasn't exactly a sight to behold, either. She pulled the tissues back to wipe her own forehead instead. "Does it hurt less now?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered. In fact, there was still some pain, but compared to the torment he had just endured, it was almost nothing. He felt like he had mostly recovered.

His gaze, which had been dulled by the overwhelming pain, turned toward Shakira, now carrying a shadow of intrigue. This time, his tone wasn't as casual as before. "When did you learn medicine? During those two years in Belaris?"

He had I dug into her past thoroughly. Aside from those two missing years, there was no trace of her ever having the chance to learn these skills. Though her acupuncture hadn't completely eliminated his pain, this was the first time he had managed to endure it without taking any medication. Shakira carefully removed each of the needles and packed them away. "Yeah."

"Who taught you this?" Walter was curious.

"My master," Shakira replied in a joking tone.

"Shakira, what are you trying to hide?" Walter frowned.

"You have your secrets, and I have mine. Just because I'm working for you doesn't mean I have to-spill all of them, right?" Shakira shrugged.

Walter tugged at the corners of his lips, about to speak, when his expression suddenly changed again.

Shakira frowned, puzzled. "You...

"I'm freezing," he said.

'Freezing? How could that be?" She reached to check his pulse, but before she could figure it out, Walter, like a powerful beast, swiftly pulled her onto the bed, trapping her in his hold.

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His body was still slick with sweat, radiating heat, yet now he pressed against her tightly, leaving no space between them. Shakira didn't even have time to struggle-Walter had already wrapped her up as if she were a heat source, holding her in at tight grip. "Walter, let me go, Shakira said. "Cold..." Seeing him shivering and pulling her closer, Shakira had no choice. She adjusted her position and once again. checked his pulse.

He was having a cold. Shakira mentally cursed herself. In her haste to give him acupuncture, she had completely forgotten to check his pulse first. She didn't expect that he had such a severe buildup of coldness in his body. "Walter, have you ever suffered from a cold-related illness?" she asked.

This time, he finally responded, "During the winter, I spent an entire day and night in the open

He said it so lightly, but the words made Shakira's heart tighten Abandoning any further attempts to resist, she slowly wrapped her arms around him instead. "Is this warmer?"

"Yes. The comforting warmth gradually soothed Walter. As he felt her embracing him voluntarily, he thought for a moment and said. "If the power hadn't gone out, I wouldn't be using you as a heater." Without any tools, the human body was the next best source of warmth. And given the choice, he'd rather hold her than Brian or Levi.

Shakira's lips twitched. She bluntly called him out, "You just don't want to hold Levi, right?"

"Shut up," he said. Shakira obediently fell silent, not wanting to provoke him in his weakened state. Oddly enough, despite his sweaty body, he didn't have that typical unpleasant smell of men.

Unable to move or escape, Shakira resigned herself to the situation, settled into a comfortable spot, and soon found herself growing drowsy. Before long, her eyes drifted shut.