Elizbeth sat cross-legged on the bed. She slowly popped open the velvet box.

Resting on a bed of white satin was a stunning antique brooch, shaped like a swallow in mid-flight.

She picked it up and pressed the cool metal against the center of her chest. The memory of Carlton's fake kiss and his immediate, violent rejection played on a loop in her mind. A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek and dripping onto her collarbone.

She wiped her face aggressively. She needed to ground herself.

She turned and reached into her open medical bag she had just brought in, sitting on the floor. Her fingers brushed against the soft leather of her acupuncture roll. She traced the outlines of the specialized silver needles hidden inside. The familiar texture calmed her racing heart.

She took a deep breath, slipped the leather roll into the pocket of her silk robe, and stood up. Her throat was dry. She needed a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs.

Elizbeth opened the master bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The estate was eerily silent.

As she walked past the grand staircase, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the West Wing.

Elizbeth froze. Her heart skipped a beat. She stared down the dark, forbidden corridor. The contract clause flashed in her mind: Permanent ban from entering the West Wing.

Another crash sounded, louder this time. It was followed by a low, guttural roar of pure agony. It sounded like a wild animal trapped in a snare.

Elizbeth's medical instincts flared, instantly overriding her fear. She gritted her teeth, turned on her heel, and sprinted toward the West Wing.

The lighting in this hallway was dim. The air felt heavy and oppressive.

She followed the sounds to a massive oak door at the very end of the hall. It was cracked open.

Elizbeth pushed the door gently. It swung inward, revealing a scene of absolute chaos.

Shattered porcelain and the remains of an expensive floor lamp littered the Persian rug.

Carlton was on his knees in the center of the room. Both of his hands were clamped the sides of his head. The muscles in his arms and back were twitching violently, spasming out of control.

He let out another agonizing roar. He lunged forward and slammed his forehead directly into the solid walnut wainscoting covering the wall.

Elizbeth gasped. A dark smear of blood was already painted across the wood paneling.

She didn't think. She bolted into the room, her bare feet crunching over broken glass.

"Carlton, stop!" she screamed, reaching out and grabbing his broad shoulders to pull him back.

Carlton's head snapped around. His eyes were bloodshot, the whites completely red. His pupils were blown wide, unfocused and wild. He had completely lost his mind to the pain.

Like a provoked beast, he swung his massive arm backward.

The sheer force of his strike caught Elizbeth in the chest. She was lifted off her feet and thrown backward through the air.

Her spine crashed against a heavy mahogany bookcase.

Pain exploded in her back, radiating down her legs. She let out a choked gasp and slid down the wood, collapsing onto the floor. She curled in on herself, her face contorting in agony.

Carlton didn't even register that she was there. He raised his bloody fist and began pounding it into the wall, the skin on his knuckles splitting open.

Elizbeth watched him, her breathing shallow. He was experiencing a catastrophic neurological pain event. If she didn't stop him, he was going to kill himself.

She ignored the screaming pain in her spine. She bit her lip until it bled, placed her hands flat on the floor, and forced herself to stand on shaking legs.

She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the black leather roll.

Her fingers worked with practiced speed, flicking the leather strap open. A row of long, gleaming silver needles caught the dim light.

Elizbeth took a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes locked onto the back of Carlton's neck, mapping the critical acupoints hidden beneath his skin.

She pulled out the longest needle-the nerve-calming pin. Her eyes hardened with absolute focus.

With desperate determination, Elizbeth lunged across the room toward the out-of-control man.

Elizbeth gripped the long silver needle tightly between her thumb and index finger. She launched herself at Carlton's back.

Carlton heard the rush of air behind him. His combat instincts flared through the haze of pain. He spun around wildly, his bleeding arm sweeping horizontally to take her head off.

Elizbeth knew she couldn't overpower a trained soldier. As his massive arm swept toward her, she intentionally let her knees buckle, dropping to the floor with a sharp cry. The sudden sound broke through his violent haze for a fraction of a second. Carlton hesitated, his momentum throwing him off balance. Elizbeth seized the opening. She scrambled forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands and using his own downward force to pull him to the carpet. But his reflexes were terrifying. Even disoriented, he twisted his body. Within a second, he was on top of her, pinning her flat against the ground.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto hers. His large right hand shot out and clamped down hard around her throat.

Elizbeth's airway was instantly crushed. Her face flushed dark red. She gagged, her left hand flying up to claw desperately at his thick forearm.

Her lungs burned for oxygen, but her right hand remained steady. She still held the silver needle. Her eyes stayed locked on the back of his neck.

As Carlton squeezed her throat harder, the muscles in his neck flexed and tightened, perfectly exposing the base of his skull.

Elizbeth's eyes narrowed. She found the Fengchi acupoint. Without a second of hesitation, she drove the needle deep into the base of his neck.

The moment the metal pierced his nerve cluster, Carlton's massive body went completely rigid. His pupils contracted violently.

Elizbeth felt the crushing grip on her throat loosen slightly. She shoved his hand away, gasping loudly, sucking air into her burning lungs.

She didn't stop moving. She reached into the leather roll on the floor and pulled out three more needles.

Her hands moved in a blur. She precisely inserted the needles into the calming acupoints on his scalp and the top of his shoulders.

Carlton let out a low, heavy groan. The frantic, wild energy drained from his body as if a plug had been pulled.

His tense muscles turned to jelly. The violent red color faded from his eyes. His heavy eyelids drooped, and he collapsed forward, his dead weight crushing Elizbeth against the floor.

Elizbeth grunted under his weight. She carefully pushed his heavy shoulders off her and rolled him onto his back.

She collapsed onto the carpet next to him, her entire body soaked in cold sweat. Her chest heaved as she stared at the ceiling.

She turned her head and looked at his pale, finally peaceful face. Her heart ached. She reached out a trembling hand and gently brushed a lock of dark hair away from his closed eyes.

Thirty minutes passed in total silence. Elizbeth sat cross-legged beside him, her eyes glued to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, Carlton's brow twitched. His index finger jerked against the carpet.

His eyes snapped open. The wildness was gone, replaced instantly by the cold, lethal alertness of a trained soldier.

He sat up in a flash. He immediately felt the strange, sharp pressure at the base of his skull.

His hand flew to the back of his neck. His fingers brushed the metal pins. His face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage.

He ripped the silver needles out of his skin and threw them onto the floor. He slowly turned his head and locked his dead eyes onto Elizbeth.

Before she could blink, he lunged.

His hand clamped around her bruised throat once again. He lifted her off the floor and slammed her back against the wall.

"What did you do to me?" he hissed, his voice sounding like it came straight from hell.

Elizbeth's toes barely brushed the floor. The back of her head throbbed from hitting the wall. She gripped Carlton's iron wrist with both hands, trying to pry his fingers apart.

"I... was... saving you," she forced out, the words scraping painfully through her crushed windpipe.

Carlton let out a dark, mocking laugh. His eyes were filled with absolute contempt. He squeezed his fingers tighter.

Elizbeth's face turned from red to a sickly shade of purple. The lack of oxygen forced hot, physiological tears out of the corners of her eyes. They tracked down her cheeks, dropping onto his knuckles.

Suddenly, Carlton froze. His jaw went slack, and he blinked in confusion.

The agonizing, brain-splitting pain that had been torturing him for months-the pain that usually took hours of heavy sedation to even dull-was completely gone. His head felt incredibly clear.

Shock flashed across his face. His grip on her throat involuntarily loosened.

Elizbeth seized the moment. She ripped his fingers away from her neck and slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor.

She clutched her throat, coughing violently. She sucked in huge, greedy gulps of air, her chest heaving.

Carlton stood over her, his expression a chaotic mix of suspicion and disbelief. "Explain," he commanded coldly.

Elizbeth swallowed hard, soothing her raw throat. She tilted her head up and met his gaze without flinching.

"Let me take your pulse," she demanded.

Carlton's brow furrowed. His entire body rejected the idea of this mystical nonsense. He didn't move an inch.

But the unprecedented clarity in his head made him hesitate. Slowly, his face hardening into a scowl, he extended his thick wrist toward her.

Elizbeth pushed herself up onto her knees. She reached out and pressed her three middle fingers against his strong, steady pulse point.

She closed her eyes, tuning out the room. She focused entirely on the rhythm of his blood.

Within seconds, her eyebrows pulled together in a tight frown. His pulse was chaotic, violent, and highly aggressive.

This wasn't a natural neurological disease. It felt like a severe rejection response caused by a foreign, synthetic substance.

Elizbeth opened her eyes and pulled her hand back. Her expression was grave.

"Your pulse isn't from an illness," she said, her voice steady and laced with absolute clinical certainty. "It's the chaotic signature of a complex synthetic biotoxin attacking your nervous system. Standard medicine can't even detect it, let alone treat it."

The moment the word "biotoxin" left her mouth, the tiny flicker of confusion in Carlton's eyes twisted into immediate, dark suspicion.

He felt like an absolute idiot for letting a gold-digging woman trick him for even a second. A hot wave of fury washed over him.

Carlton snatched his wrist back. A cruel, mocking smirk twisted his lips. He was convinced she was just a con artist playing for time.

He pointed a rigid finger at the open door. "Get out!" he roared, his voice shaking the walls. "Don't ever bring your pathetic parlor tricks near me again!"

Elizbeth stood up, taking a step toward him. "Carlton, you have to listen to me, the acupuncture principle-"

Carlton grabbed the heavy crystal ashtray off the side table and hurled it at the doorframe next to her head.

The crystal shattered into a hundred pieces. A sharp shard of glass flew back and sliced across Elizbeth's cheek.

A thin line of bright red blood welled up on her pale skin.

Elizbeth stared at him, the sheer violence of his rejection stabbing her in the chest. The light in her eyes dimmed.

She didn't say another word. She crouched down, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up her scattered silver needles from the carpet. She slid them back into the leather roll.

She stood up, gave him one last, hollow look, and walked out of the hostile room.

Carlton watched her thin back disappear down the dark hallway. He slammed his fist into the wall, a sudden, inexplicable irritation clawing at his chest.