Spiked for Revenge: Bull Heat in a Bottle

Susan Miller, my father's caretaker, often complains that the supplements keep running out.

The wild kingroots that are worth 500 thousand dollars are completely used up even though Susan has only made soup with them twice in a row.

As I filter through the medicinal residue with a frown on my face, Susan sinks down to her knees and begins slapping herself.

"They must have melted in the soup because of my lack of attention! Please dock my pay, Ms. Lawson, but please don't fire me!"

But that night, I come across a post uploaded by Susan's son, Roman Cox, on Instagram.

"Hi everyone! Today, I'm challenging myself to eat two wild kingroots in one go!"

When I see Roman picking up a familiar-lookng giftbox, I feel my temper flaring instantly. Then, I order a packet of potent aphrodisiacs meant for animals on the spot.

It turns out that Roman intends to chug down my prized Romanee-Conti in the next episode of his stream.

Well then, I'll let him have his feel of drinking something else!

To take care of my aging father, I hired a top-tier live-in caregiver from the largest service agency in Yorkfall. She was paid 50 thousand dollars a month, with everything else covered.

Today was the 30th day she had been on the job. It was also the first time I had come to see Dad since finishing a stretch of nonstop work.

"Ms. Lawson, you're back," Susan Miller greeted me, holding an empty bowl. A slightly ingratiating smile immediately spread across her face.

I didn't respond and walked straight into Dad's bedroom. The moment I pushed the door open, a suffocating stench of medicine hit me in the face.

The curtains were drawn tight, letting in only a few dim streaks of light. They fell on Dad's face, sunken deep into the pillow.

He had wasted away badly. His cheekbones jutted out sharply, and his skin looked like parchment paper stretched tight over the bone.

I frowned and went straight to the bedside table, where a rosewood box sat. Inside were supposed to be the wild kingroot I had bought at great cost. It was 250 thousand dollars per piece, sliced thin to keep him alive.

I opened the box, and it was empty—not even a single strand of kingroot fiber remained.

My heart sank. I turned to Susan, the anger in my voice impossible to hold back. "Ms. Miller, how are the two kingroots I sent home last week already gone?"

Her eyes flickered. She instinctively wiped her hands on her apron.

"Ms. Lawson, your father is very frail. He hasn't been in great spirits these past couple of days, so I thought I should nourish him a bit more. That kingroot may look big, but once you boil it, it shrinks. It doesn't last long at all."

I laughed coldly and strode into the kitchen. With one sharp motion, I lifted the lid off the simmering medicine pot.

Dad's body was too weak for surgery, so the doctor had been clear that he needed traditional medicine first to regulate his body and rebuild his energy. Only then could treatment continue.

Hence, I had imported the best medicinal herbs money could buy. And yet, inside the steaming pot, only a few cheap, low-grade herbs rolled uselessly in the boiling water.

"Explain."

The air froze for a few seconds. The smile on Susan's face stiffened, and her cloudy eyes darted around in panic. Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees.

Her knees slammed into the marble floor with a heavy thud, and right after that came two sharp slaps. She struck her face on the left, then right.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lawson! It's all my fault! I've never seen herbs this expensive before, so I must've turned the heat up too high and boiled the kingroot away! I'm sorry for not knowing better!"

Tears and snot streamed down her face as she reached to grab my leg.

"Dock my pay! Take as much as you want!" she sobbed. "Please, just don't fire me! My son just graduated from college and hasn't found a job. My family is counting on this money to survive!"

Her sudden kneeling drained the anger right out of me. I was a businesswoman, and I cared about appearances. I couldn't bring myself to be ruthless while a woman in her 50s knelt on the floor, sobbing like this.

Besides, in Dad's current condition, I couldn't afford to let him be without a caregiver.

I took a deep breath and forced the irritation down. Pulling my leg free, I stepped back in disgust. "That's enough. Get up."

I took two thousand dollars from my bag and tossed it onto the table. "If a basic mistake like this happens again, pack your bags and leave."

Susan got up at once, thanking me over and over. She grabbed the cash and stuffed it straight into her pocket. Her movement was quick and smooth, nothing like a woman who had just been crying her heart out a second ago.

Watching her put on a show of humility, with her smugness barely concealed, I felt something inexplicable stirring in my chest. It felt like a lump stuck in my throat, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I wasn't short on money, but I was short on Dad's time.

If that kingroot had truly gone into his system, I would've accepted it. Even if it had been overboiled into nothing, I would've let it go.

Looking at Dad's face, which appeared so thin and almost unrecognizable, I felt nothing but suspicion. Had the kingroot really been "boiled away"?