Chapter 616

Though Victoria was secretly amused, she cried out, "Help! Someone, please!"

Harrison lifted her gaze, her piercing eyes locking onto Victoria's face. A knowing smirk played on her lips.

"What are you smiling about?" Victoria snapped, her voice trembling with forced outrage. "You murdered my husband, and now you dare to smirk?"

Unease prickled at Victoria's skin—Harrison's expression was unsettling.

Harrison's voice remained eerily calm. "Are you absolutely certain Theodore is dead?"

Victoria froze. "What kind of question is that? He isn't breathing. Of course he's dead."

Harrison tilted her head slightly. "Why don't you check again?"

Hesitant, Victoria pressed her fingers against Theodore's nose. Cold. No breath.

Just as she pulled back, ready to lash out at Harrison for toying with her, Theodore's eyes flew open.

Victoria shrieked, stumbling backward. "Ah—!"

In a flash, Theodore's hand shot out, clamping around her wrist.

A dead man—now alive—was gripping her.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she wrenched free, crashing onto the floor. "Ghost! He's a ghost!"

Margaret rushed forward, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Theodore! You're alive!"

Victoria gaped, disbelief twisting her features. Theodore's chest rose and fell—deep, steady breaths. The heart monitor beeped rhythmically, confirming his pulse.

Alive.

Just moments ago, she had confirmed his death. No breath. No heartbeat.

How?

This was impossible.

Margaret turned to Harrison, awe softening her voice. "Is he truly alright now?"

Harrison rose gracefully. "Yes."

Victoria scrambled to her feet, her voice shaking. "What did you do to him?"

Harrison's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "I treated him. My methods involve death before revival. You wouldn't understand."

"You—you really are Dr. Sinclair," Margaret whispered, reverence in her tone.

Harrison had done it.

Theodore was awake.

Victoria stood paralyzed, panic clawing at her throat. What now?

Margaret leaned over Theodore, hope lighting her eyes. "Can you speak?"

Theodore's movements were sluggish, but his gaze sharpened—locking onto Victoria with blistering fury. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists.

If he had the strength, he would have lunged.

Victoria's breath hitched. She took a step back.

Margaret frowned, glancing between them. "Why are you looking at Victoria like that?"

Theodore's glare never wavered. Rage burned in his eyes—raw, untamed.

Margaret's suspicion grew. "Did she hurt you? Tell me!"

Victoria's stomach dropped.

If Theodore spoke, Isabella's secret would be exposed.

They were out of time.