Chapter 93:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Hearing Allison’s calm directive, the butler wasted no time. With Lorna in tow, he quickly made his way upstairs, hoping to settle her. “Thank you, Miss Clarke!” he called back, a strange sense of trust forming toward her. Perhaps it was the way Kellan treated her that convinced him — any woman Kellan trusted and liked couldn’t possibly be incapable.

“Take it easy, slow and steady!” Allison urged, turning back to help Kellan, carefully guiding him toward the sofa.

By now, the pain had overtaken Kellan, leaving him speechless and pale, like a ghost. His neurogenic headaches, when they flared, were like a tempest in his mind — dizziness, an intense ringing in his ears. Through it all, he bore the torment silently, biting down on his lips and refusing to make a sound.

Allison swiftly grabbed a few tissues, gently wiping away the sweat that beaded on his brow. “The doctor will be here soon,” she reassured him, her voice soothing.

As her fingers brushed against his forehead, a flicker of recognition crossed Kellan’s pain-stricken face. Amid the haze of agony, a faint, familiar scent reached him, clearing his mind ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve smelled this before… It’s the perfume… you made… yourself,” he murmured weakly, struggling to form coherent thoughts through the pain.

Allison suddenly remembered their earlier conversation. Without hesitation, she reached into her bag, pulling out a small bottle of perfume, and spritzed a few sprays around the room.

Sure enough, the moment Kellan inhaled the familiar scent, a slight relaxation flickered across his face, and the tension in his arms began to ease. Yet the pain clung to him like a shadow, and beads of cold sweat trickled down his forehead. His slightly curled lashes trembled as his body shook. Whenever agitation took hold of him, his eyes would turn bloodshot, revealing a fragility that Allison had never witnessed before.

Allison gently massaged his pressure points, wishing to ease his torment. “Just hang in there a little longer,” she murmured. Suddenly, Kellan reached out, his hand finding her arm.

1Ɫ∆ŦE$† ₡Ḥ∆₱†€₤S 1₦ gɑl𝑛οvєlѕ.сo𝓂

His skin felt like fire against her touch, and their positioning seemed to suggest they were propping each other up, two pillars amidst a storm.

From where Allison stood, she noticed Kellan’s fingers trembling ever so slightly. He was in immense agony, yet not a sound escaped his lips. Taking a few deep breaths, Kellan’s voice emerged weak but steady.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this. You’re a guest, and this… this isn’t how I meant to welcome you.”

Allison shook her head, dismissing his concern. “No need to apologize. Everyone gets sick.”

As she gazed at Kellan, barely hanging on, Allison suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity wash over her. After all, Kellan had always exuded strength and detachment, maintaining his poise and elegance even in life-threatening situations. When had he ever allowed himself to show such vulnerability? Even through the torment, he was still concerned about his hospitality toward her.

“You stay put. I have medication for neurogenic headaches. It won’t cure everything, but it should offer some relief,” Allison said, leaving the perfume behind as she grabbed her bag and dashed out the door.

She had witnessed these symptoms before during her time with the Stevens family. Lindy often battled similar headaches. There were many triggers — both physical and psychological — that could spark these neurogenic migraines, but the one constant was their sheer intensity. Many patients had even contemplated ending their suffering during episodes. To this day, a definitive cure remained elusive.

Years ago, Allison had invested in the MDH Pharmaceutical Research Institute overseas. When she reached out to them, she learned they were the only facility in the world developing medication to alleviate such pain.

The Soothing Capsule they produced couldn’t completely eradicate neurogenic headaches, but it offered considerable relief. Allison had managed to acquire some of those capsules three years ago for Lindy’s treatment.

Just as she opened her car door, her phone rang. The number was unfamiliar. She answered, only to hear Colton’s voice on the other end. “I can’t believe you blocked me. You…” His tone dripped with disbelief.

Allison had no time to entertain him. She swiftly hung up. The phone beeped, and Colton glared at his device, seething with anger. If it weren’t for his mother’s illness, he would never have stooped to asking Allison for help.

He tried calling again, switching numbers in a desperate attempt to reach her. The phone rang relentlessly. Annoyed, Allison finally answered, her voice cold and detached. “If you have something to say, make it quick. I don’t have time for this.”

Colton bristled at her chilliness, but he reminded himself that he still needed her help. Swallowing his pride, he spoke as calmly as he could manage. “Allison, could you bring the medication for neurogenic headaches? I’ll pay you for it if I have to. My mother is in excruciating pain again, and it’s unbearable for her. That’s why I’m calling.”

.

.

.