Alexander Blackwood had never been fond of doctors like Theodore Whitmore, and his disdain was evident in his cold expression.

Turning to Nathan Prescott, he snapped, "I told you I could cure Victoria's condition. If you insist on trusting these so-called professionals, then don't come to me! I won't tolerate your stubbornness any longer!"

Theodore's confidence was unshakable, and even Alexander, who had initially doubted him, found himself reluctantly swayed.

Over the past few days, Alexander had discreetly investigated Theodore's background.

The man's past was enigmatic, but his medical expertise was undeniable. He had successfully treated countless patients deemed incurable by modern medicine.

His eccentric personality was well-documented—he often made bizarre demands of his patients. This aligned perfectly with what Amy Sinclair and Theodore had claimed.

Compared to his usual requests, what he asked of Victoria was almost reasonable.

After a moment of contemplation, Alexander finally relented. "Fine. I'll have Victoria brought to you by tomorrow."

Theodore's lips curled into a smirk. "She's already wasted a day. We'll need to postpone another. And she'll have to make up for the work she missed."

His sharp gaze lingered on Victoria, who lay unconscious on the hospital bed.

"Games won't work with me. If she doesn't care about her life, she can keep stalling. It's not my illness, after all."

Victoria, who had just regained consciousness, nearly bolted upright at his words.

That old man was deliberately tormenting her!

Theodore soon left, followed by Amy, who held Oliver Kingsley's small hand as they exited the hospital.

Once outside, Theodore suddenly turned to Amy. "Did you verify that Vivian Cooper's medical records?"

Amy opened the car door for him. "We did. All we found were fabricated reports. Even Sebastian Kingsley couldn't uncover the truth."

Theodore nodded knowingly. "Someone powerful is protecting her. Amy, do you want to expose her?"

Amy fastened her seatbelt with a quiet click. "Of course I do. But not yet."

"Oh?"

Starting the engine, Amy's voice was calm. "If we expose her now, Alexander might refuse to divorce her. Let her keep pretending. Maybe she'll marry into the Prescott family."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Theodore's face. "I'd love to see the showdown between her and Margaret Blackwood."

Amy smirked. "Revenge is best served cold."

Theodore laughed heartily. "Well played!"

In the days that followed, Victoria's attempts to feign illness failed miserably. With no other choice, she reluctantly complied.

She could sense Alexander's patience wearing thin.

"Victoria, is a little discomfort really worse than dying?" Alexander's voice was icy.

"I've reviewed the clinic's surveillance footage. They didn't mistreat you. Your tasks were identical to Oliver's."

"If a five-year-old can handle it, why can't you?"

Victoria had complained bitterly to Nathan, who, after cursing Amy's name, tried to console her.

"Just endure this for now. Once we get that old man's prescriptions, I'll burn his clinic to the ground."

But once his anger cooled, Nathan realized he might have overreacted.

Even if he had stormed in, the only person he could confront was Theodore.

Oliver was Sebastian's son—untouchable.