Filed to story: My Husband Regrets Divorcing Me (Audrey & Cornell)
The bodyguards paused, uncertain, waiting for Roscoe’s next words.
However, the overwhelming pain in Roscoe’s head made him struggle to speak his mind, sweats breaking out on his forehead.
Just then, Miguel hastily intervened. “What are you guys waiting for? Remove her quickly! It’s not Roscoe’s time to take charge of the Watts family yet.”
His tone dripped with malice as he commanded, “Take this woman away, now!”
The bodyguards took note. Now the one in charge of the Watts family was Miguel. It wasn’t Roscoe’s turn yet.
Roscoe could only watch in agony as Nicole was forcibly removed, the pain in his head rendering him speechless.
Soon after, overwhelmed, Roscoe collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. He had actually passed out!
The remaining bodyguards on stage acted swiftly, carrying Roscoe to the restroom on a stretcher.
The host promptly managed the situation and announced, “The groom seems to be feeling ill. We’ll entertain you with some music and dance while he rests. Then, we’ll proceed with the ceremony.”
As the host made the announcement, a popular singer took the stage, capturing the audience’s attention immediately.
In the lounge.
Miguel turned to the woman in red beside him and asked coldly, “How can we wake him up?”
The woman in red assessed Roscoe’s condition, checked his pulse, and then gazed at the elderly man with a white beard standing beside her.
She began to speak in an unintelligible Language.
The elderly man listened attentively before shaking his head and waving his hand, uttering a lengthy response.
Miguel, puzzled by the exchange, sensed that the situation was dire.
Turning to Miguel, the woman in red explained, “My master believes this is a result of the overdosage. The excessive amount that had been administered had overloaded his brain. Any outside stimuli could cause turmoil in his head. It could be said that he was quite tough since others might have been sentenced to brain death while he simply passed out.”
Miguel caressed his beard contemplatively and declared, “We must ensure the wedding proceeds. Find a way to make it happen!”
The woman in red responded cautiously, “Sir, our only option is to administer a parasite that will awaken him, but it will severely damage his body. This parasite targets the brain, and it’s probable that your son will…”
She trailed off, leaving the grim implication hanging in the air. It was clear to all. Roscoe’s chances of survival were slim.
Miguel’s concerns were elsewhere, focused solely on his personal interests, He still possessed assets he hadn’t yet transferred abroad and needed Roscoe, the heir he claimed to pass over the control of the Watts family, to shoulder all the blame for the wrongdoings the other members of the Watts family had done. Thus, Roscoe’s survival was crucial, but only for now.
If Roscoe were to die right now, Miguel’s elaborate scheme would be shattered apart, potentially dragging the Schultz family down. Jarrod, unaware of Miguel’s true motives, would otherwise never agree to Doreen marrying Roscoe despite her affection.
Jarrod, by pressing the Watts and Schultz families into a union through marriage, had unwittingly played into Miguel’s hands.
Miguel’s machinations were indeed cunning.
After pondering briefly, Miguel decisively instructed, “Do it. Revive him now. I need this wedding to continue flawlessly.”
This action would signal to the community that the Watts family remained robust and stable, ensuring the smooth operation of his covert investment endeavors and securing long-term safety for his other heirs overseas. This way, the Watts lineage was poised for enduring prosperity.
The woman in red’s expression turned to one of reluctance. “Sir, the risk increases with each use of the parasite. If he suffers another seizure, he may not make it…”
Miguel responded with visible irritation, “I’ve invested heavily in your witchcraft tribe for this task. Spare me the excuses. You are to follow my orders, understood?”
The woman in red pondered for a while and noted he was right. Miguel was their employer, mot Roscoe. They would have to comply with whatever Miguel demanded, even if it meant harming Roscoe.
The witchcraft tribe specialized in using parasites for such mental control that even the precise machine might not detect anything amiss.
Should Roscoe now be examined at a hospital, no signs would be apparent until the parasites had devoured his brain.
Once satiated, the parasites would exit the host’s brain either to find another host or to return to their origin.
The woman in red retrieved a small sandalwood box from her belongings.
The elderly man immediately grasped what was about to occur upon seeing the box and began to vehemently rebuke her. He was adamant that his disciples not engage in harming others with the use of parasites.
The woman in red had only told the elderly man, her master, about Miguel’s request for mental control of Roscoe, with a hefty sum of money as a reward that was sufficient enough to preserve the base of their tribal, a sacred site soon to be demolished.
Losing that site would mean the loss of a crucial breeding ground for the parasites and potentially the end of their tribe without any heirs.
Every one of their tribe nurtured the parasites from infancy within their own bodies, serving as the first hosts. Over time, the parasites matured into movable entities and they would coax the parasites out using a specific herb upon reaching maturity.
These parasites were then gathered at the world’s clearest lake, nourished by mist and dew until they reached a viable size, after which they were stored in sandalwood boxes for further use.
The parasites cradled in the hand of the woman in red were aged forty years and possessed an unimaginable toxicity.
Despite the elderly man’s efforts to stop inflicting harm on Roscoe, guards, under Miguel’s orders, forcibly removed him.
Miguel, observing the woman in red’s hesitation, stroked his beard, his face twisting into a sly grin. “Emerie, remember our initial agreement that neither party could renege? Otherwise, you and your master might not safely exit Ardlens.”
Miguel’s threat was clear.
Turning to the pale-faced Roscoe on the bed, the woman in red lowered her head and murmured, “I’m sorry. Your family wants you gone, and I’m left with no choice.”
She shaped her hand like a canopy, and from the box, a white worm emerged, crawling onto her hand. She gently placed her hand over Roscoe’s eyes, and within seconds, she removed it to reveal the parasite had vanished.
Miguel expressed his doubt, “Did the parasite truly enter like that?”
The woman in red, head still bowed, explained, “Parasites enter the brain only through the eyes, morphing to match the shape of the eyeball, as thin as paper. Once inside, they mimic nerves, undetectable by X-rays or standard instruments.”
Miguel remained skeptical until Roscoe stirred, flexing his fingers before opening his eyes, now clear and alert. He asked, “How did I get here?”
Emerie said, “Sir, today is your wedding day. You were merely resting backstage, but now it’s time to return to the ceremony.”
Roscoe acknowledged with a simple nod and got out of bed, his demeanor energetic and healthy.
Miguel couldn’t contain his delight, acknowledging the mental controlling skills the witchcraft tribe possessed, his invested money worthwhile. With their support, he assumed there was nothing he couldn’t conquer.
Emerie trailed behind Roscoe as they made their way to the wedding stage. Though Roscoe seemed fine, he needed close observation, a task only Emerie could manage.
Onstage, the host repeated the crucial question after Doreen was informed of the groom’s revival. Roscoe responded robustly, “I do.”
Doreen, glowing with happiness, echoed, “I do too.”
The host then proclaimed the union official amid the crowd’s applause and cheers.
Behind the scenes, Miguel’s dark gaze shifted to the butler, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. “Where is that woman?”
The butler announced, “Miss Lawrence is confined to the lounge.”
Miguel, coldly stroking his beard, commanded, “Beat her thoroughly, and then throw her out.”
Miguel internally cursed Nicole. Were it not for the unique and valuable parasite, he would relish the chance to watch it consume her mind.
She was a complete disaster, utterly irritating. Fortunately, rumors suggested her health was failing. This ordeal would ideally see her and Roscoe perish together in their misery.
Miguel departed with a wave of his hand.
Trapped in the lounge, Nicole was left to consider Roscoe’s odd demeanor. It was unsettling, not resembling amnesia, but rather as if he had been stripped of his soul, leaving him devoid of any vitality.
What could be happening?
As she pondered, the door burst open. Two menacing bodyguards, clad in black and armed with wooden sticks, entered.
Nicole’s heart skipped a beat, and she recoiled. “What are you planning to do?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“The orders are to beat you,” one bodyguard stated flatly.
“You’re committing a crime!” Nicole yelled in response.
The intent to inflict severe harm was evident in their menacing stance with the sticks. Miguel’s malice was clear.
“We’re here to punish the thief who disrupted the banquet and committed theft,” the other bodyguard explained.
“A fortune in gold and silver jewelry vanished today at the event, and you’re our prime suspect.”
As the words hung in the air, the bodyguard threw a heap of jewelry onto the floor before Nicole. Miguel’s scheme to kill Nicole was meticulously planned, leaving no loopholes.
Nicole stared in disbelief at the scattered gold and silver before her. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t steal anything! You’re framing me!” she exclaimed.
The bodyguards advanced step by step. “We have witnesses and evidence proving it was you. Do you still deny it?” they challenged.
Programmed with Miguel’s instructions, the bodyguards were merely executing their orders. By accusing Nicole, they justified their actions to commence the beating without fear of reprisal.
Cornered against a cold wall with nowhere to hide, Nicole watched the burly men raise their sticks.
Realizing the futility of pleading with Miguel’s men, loyal enforcers of the Watts family, Nicole braced for the inevitable. She shut her eyes tight, anticipating the devastating strike.
“Bang!” A loud crash echoed, yet no pain followed.