Hearing the assessnt of Aurora, Sebastian frowned his posture stiffening. Aurora’s words had an ominous undertone, and he instinctively braced himself for what was coming.
Aurora exhaled softly, her gaze steady on him. "Your sister is being poisoned," she said plainly, letting the words hang in the air. "In fact, it would be more accurate to say that she’s been poisoned since birth. A slow-acting toxin has been introduced into her system over ti. It accelerates cellular deterioration, exacerbating the effects of her disorder."
The room fell silent.
Sebastian’s expression was a mix of astonishnt and skepticism, his sharp mind racing to process her claim. He stared at Aurora, searching for any sign of deceit or error, but her unwavering confidence left little room for doubt.
"No other doctor has ever ntioned this before," he said, his voice low but with an edge of distrust. "How can you be certain?"
Aurora leaned back in her chair, her posture composed but unyielding. Her gaze settled on the papers spread before her, each one a silent testant to lives unraveling. "This poison," she said, her voice calm yet edged with conviction, "isn’t the work of an amateur. It was created by soone with an intricate understanding of its properties—and of their victim."
She let her words linger in the stillness, her eyes narrowing as if piecing together an invisible puzzle. "It’s not just a toxin. It’s designed with chilling precision, calibrated to react specifically with the victim’s genetic condition. The mont it enters their system, it becos a shadow of the disease itself, amplifying its effects, making the suffering worse. To any doctor, it looks like an uncontrollable progression of natural symptoms."
Aurora leaned forward, her fingertips resting lightly on the table, her expression sharpening. "That’s why no one has uncovered it. Modern dicine can’t fight what it doesn’t see—especially when the enemy hides behind the mask of inevitability."
Her words carried the weight of revelation, the kind that shifted the air in the room.
Jenny’s small voice broke through the tension. "Poisoned?" she repeated softly, her wide eyes shifting between her brother and Aurora.
Aurora softened her tone as she addressed the little girl. "Yes, Jenny. But don’t worry—I’m here to figure out exactly what’s going on and how to fix it. You’ve been so brave, and now it’s my turn to fight for you."
Sebastian’s skepticism wavered as he observed Aurora’s composed determination. "If you’re right," he finally said, his voice steady but tinged with restrained fury, "then whoever is responsible will pay. But for now, prove it, Doctor. Show the evidence."
Aurora t his piercing gaze with her own, her smirk faint but resolute. "I wouldn’t have said it if I couldn’t back it up," she replied. "I’ll need to run so specialized tests. If my suspicions are correct, the poison’s markers will still be present in her system."
Sebastian nodded, his expression hardening. "Do whatever it takes. I want answers."
Aurora’s smirk deepened, a flicker of amusent brushing her lips, though her eyes remained steady and serious. She could hear the doubt in Sebastian’s voice; see the disbelief etched into his furrowed brow. It wasn’t surprising. After all, the original owner of this body was little more than an ordinary girl—a college dropout with a life as transparent as glass and as unremarkable as a passing breeze.
But Aurora didn’t flinch. She didn’t allow the weight of his skepticism to show on her face. Confidence radiated from her like a second skin, a quiet assurance that needed no validation. Proof? She would provide it, not because she had to, but because she could.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have felt compelled to go to such lengths. Obligation wasn’t a chain she often let bind her. But this was different. This was Jenny—a child whose strength defied her frail body, whose resilience shone brighter than the despair threatening to consu her.
Aurora’s resolve hardened. She would do whatever it took to help Jenny. Not out of duty, but because sothing deep within her refused to let the little girl face this alone. For Jenny, she would succeed. She always did. Failure was a language Aurora didn’t speak. "You’ll get them, Mr. Harper.
Aurora slipped her phone out of her pocket, her fingers moving swiftly across the screen as she composed a text. Within monts, Sebastian’s phone buzzed.
"Take Jenny to this address tomorrow morning for the test, I will get a checkup on her.
Sebastian read the ssage, skepticism flickering across his face, but it couldn’t fully mask the spark of hope that lit his eyes. Aurora’s gaze shifted to Jenny, her small face pale but no longer empty. Those once-vacant eyes now shimred with sothing fragile yet unmistakable—anticipation. With a soft smile, Aurora crouched beside her, to et Jenny’s eye level, her warm smile contrasting the tension in the room.
"I can treat her," Aurora said, her voice steady and calm, yet imbued with confidence. "But the treatnt won’t be instant. It will take ti—around six months—for her to recover fully. It’s a delicate process."
"Her body is still frail and weak," Aurora said, her tone steady but laced with concern. "This will be a very risky treatnt, Mr. Harper. I can remove the toxin from her system, but her worsened condition will take ti to heal. She’ll need patience—and a great deal of care."
The room fell into a stunned silence, the weight of her words sinking in. Even Sebastian, typically unshakable, was montarily at a loss for words.
Jenny, however, was the first to react. Her small, pale fingers reached out, trembling as they wrapped around Aurora’s hand with surprising firmness. Her wide eyes shimred with unshed tears, their depths a mix of fear and fragile hope. Her voice, barely above a whisper and cracked with emotion, broke the silence. "Miss... will it stop hurting? Will I get to live a little longer?"
Aurora’s gaze softened, and she gently placed her other hand atop Jenny’s. "Don’t worry, Jenny—you won’t be hurt anymore," she said, her voice carrying a tenderness that felt as natural as breathing.
She smiled warmly at Jenny, the kind of smile that reached her eyes and softened the edges of her otherwise guarded deanor Picking up her fork, she resud eating the appetizers and sweets they had ordered earlier, her movents unhurried and deliberate, as though sharing this mont with Jenny was the most natural thing in the world.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with light laughter and innocent curiosity, as though they’d known each other for years. For the first ti since waking up as Aurora, Luna felt a flicker of true contentnt. The heavy weight of her new reality seed to ease, replaced by a sense of ease she hadn’t thought possible.
Jenny’s bright presence was like a balm, a rare glimr of warmth in a life that had been nothing but chaos and uncertainty since her rebirth. As they talked and shared this simple al, Luna felt sothing she hadn’t in what felt like forever—peace. And it was all thanks to Jenny.
Luna couldn’t quite place it, but perhaps it was because, for the first ti in this new body, she had co face-to-face with a child she could save. Sothing about Jenny’s fragile hope ignited a long-buried purpose within her—a quiet, unyielding resolve to protect the innocent, no matter the cost.
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