Grandma Jill was set on having Ella treat Peter.
Rachel’s face tightened. “Mom, are you really sure about this? We can’t just hand Peter over to Ella. What if something happens…”
Ella smiled, a hint of challenge in her eyes as she looked at Rachel. “Why are you so scared to let me try? If you keep getting in my way, I’ll have to wonder if you’re hiding something.”
Grandma Jill’s gaze snapped back to Rachel. “I’ve made up my mind. Rachel, step aside.”
Rachel had no choice. Even though every fiber of her body screamed no, arguing any more would only make Grandma Jill suspicious. That would be a disaster.
So, Rachel stepped back.
Ella moved closer to Peter’s bedside. She barely knew him, except that he’d always been a good dad, a man whose whole world revolved around his daughter, Jessa.
Now he just lay there, pale and motionless, barely clinging to life.
Ella gently placed her fingers on his wrist, searching for a pulse, starting her diagnosis.
Grandma Jill leaned in anxiously. “Ella, can you save him? Is there hope?”
Ella nodded. “Yes, I can help him.”
Rachel felt her heart skip a beat. Panic flickered in her eyes. Was it possible Ella could really save him?
“Ella, please, do whatever you can. Hurry,” Grandma Jill pleaded.
Ella pulled out a silver needle and, with slow precision, inserted it into Peter’s scalp.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Peter, who had been completely still, suddenly twisted in pain. His hands clenched, his whole body tensed up.
“Peter!” Grandma Jill’s voice shook.
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