The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 379

“Mr. C, you know how it works in our business. Money for goods, plain and simple.”

“Of course.”

Charlotte grabbed a pen and spun it between her fingers. With her pale hand propping up her cheek and her eyes half-hidden under her cap, she glanced at the castle lord, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Her voice was cool and steady. “If you had two choices in front of you right now—ten billion, or your life—which would you pick?”

“What?” The castle lord frowned, confused.

“You have late-stage lung cancer,” Charlotte said, letting the pen drop onto the table. Her tone was almost casual. “If you don’t get treated, you’ve got a week left, tops. And I’m the only one who can save you.”

“Oh, I get it. You don’t have the money, and now you’re trying to get out of paying,” the castle lord snapped, his face going cold. “I knew you weren’t good for ten billion. Guards, grab this fraud. And someone tell Mr. God the B20 is his for three billion.”

As the guards started moving in, Charlotte didn’t even flinch. She lounged back on the sofa, lips curling into a lazy smile. “This place is packed with doctors and fancy machines. Go ahead, have someone check you out. It’ll be obvious.”

“I’m perfectly healthy, cough, cough…” The castle lord thumped his chest, ready to argue, but suddenly he started coughing hard, unable to catch his breath.

His teeth were stained yellow, and that hacking cough was a dead giveaway his lungs were in bad shape. Years of chain-smoking had numbed him, so he barely noticed the pain until now. Once you start feeling it, it’s usually already too late. There’s no going back.

Then, in the middle of his coughing fit, he spit up a mouthful of blood. The shock hit him hard. He called for his doctors at once, demanding a full checkup and a chest X-ray.

The results came back grim: terminal lung cancer, maybe a week left.

The doctors studied the scans, their faces turning solemn. One by one, they shook their heads.

Now the castle lord finally believed her. Fear took over and he rushed to Charlotte. “Mr. C, can you really save me?” His voice shook with desperation.

“No.”

Charlotte leaned back, totally relaxed, tapping her finger on the B20 vial with a hint of meaning.

The castle lord hesitated for a moment, then tore up the transfer agreement and handed the B20 over to Charlotte, his face full of regret. “Mr. C, if you really can save me, take this B20 as payment.”

“I guess I can try to treat you,” Charlotte said, almost teasing, “but I can’t promise you’ll be completely cured.”

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