Chapter 34: Unwelcome and Unwanted
The maid who had brought Yunice in last night looked stunned. “She knocked at the door in the middle of the night, saying she was here to treat Madam Johnson. I thought Mr. Wyatt had called her, so I let her in…” Only now did the maid realize she’d likely made a mistake. But if Yunice hadn’t been invited—how did she show up at just the right time to save the old woman?
As this question lingered, Yunice—nodding off—suddenly jerked forward and snapped awake. Groggy, she opened her eyes and instinctively reached for the notebook that had fallen at her feet. As she looked up, she realized several pairs of eyes were locked onto her. Like she was something foreign, something unwelcome.
Staring back at them, Yunice quietly picked up her notebook, got to her feet, and walked to the bedside with an obedient look on her face. “Madam, are you feeling any discomfort?”
Madam Johnson looked her up and down, her eyes narrowing. Yunice had the vague sense the old woman was sizing her up with something close to hostility.
Sure enough, Madam Johnson frowned. “Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. But you knew my father—Will. He treated you five years ago.”
The old woman remembered. Years ago, she’d suffered unbearable headaches, and no doctor could help. It had been Will who finally cured her.
“He passed away, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But before he died, he asked me to finish the treatments he couldn’t complete. A few days ago, I went through his notes again and realized your symptoms would be flaring up soon. That’s why I came last night.”
At her words, not only did Madam Johnson’s face stiffen—even the maids gave Yunice looks of blatant disbelief. That was a stretch. Her father had been dead five years—what, had he sent her a message from the afterlife? Plenty of people tried to cozy up to Madam Johnson. But none had ever come up with something this far-fetched.
Yunice remained composed. “Madam, if you recall, my father once said your condition couldn’t be cured in a single treatment. It would need to be reassessed in five years.”
Wyatt eyed Yunice, trying to assess whether she was putting on another act. After all—she did have a history.
Madam Johnson’s gaze wavered slightly. It was hard to remember exactly what Will had said back then. Once her symptoms were gone, who paid attention to follow-up warnings?
Wyatt, though, caught on to something. “So you’re saying this illness will come back?”
Yunice replied without hesitation. “It will. And it’ll be worse than before.”
Wyatt frowned, his expression turning grim. But Madam Johnson waved her hand, clearly impatient. “Yuna, pay Ms. Sauriders for her visit. Let her go home and rest.” Her face was cold. It was obvious she didn’t like Yunice.
“Madam,” Yunice tried to reason with her. “I’m not exaggerating. Your condition hasn’t been fully resolved—”
At this point, Yunice could no longer insist on staying. She simply nodded and followed the maid—Yuna—out.
As they walked, Yunice asked softly, “Miss, if you don’t mind me asking… What did I do to offend the Madam?”
She remembered visiting this house as a child with her father. Madam Johnson had been so kind to her then—she’d even given her a small gift. Why the sudden change?
Yuna had no real answer. “I don’t know either. Madam’s usually in a great mood. Maybe you were just unlucky today.”
As she stepped out of the Johnson residence, Yunice paused and added, “Here’s my contact info. If there’s any need, feel free to reach out.”
Even though Madam Johnson had clearly disliked her, Yuna had seen Yunice work through a terrifying night and felt a certain admiration. She accepted the note. But when she glanced at it, she looked puzzled. Most people gave a phone number—but Yunice had written an email address.
Yunice didn’t head straight home. Instead, she walked slowly along the street, still troubled. Why had Madam Johnson reacted so harshly to her? Could it be because she had rejected the arranged marriage with the Johnson family’s grandson? Was the Madam simply taking offense on his behalf?
But according to what she’d heard, Madam Johnson didn’t get along with her son’s family at all. Even last night, when the woman was deathly ill, not a single member of the Johnsons had shown up. Wyatt had been the only one who truly cared. So what was Wyatt’s connection to Madam Johnson?
Yunice was still deep in thought when a startled voice called out nearby—“Hey, watch out!” Someone bumped into her. Her grip loosened, and her bag tumbled to the ground.