Chapter 45: No Turning Back
The director nodded repeatedly. “You’re absolutely right. These days, everyone worships Western medicine—cut first, think later. But for someone Madam Johnson’s age, that’s basically dragging her to the gates of hell. I always wanted to study traditional medicine, but I never found the right teacher.”
He hesitated, then steeled himself and asked awkwardly, “Miss, could you teach me a few techniques?” Worried she’d refuse, he quickly added, “I don’t expect it for free. I’ll serve tea and formally become your student if I have…”
Yunice stared at the older man—someone old enough to be her father—and blinked, caught completely off guard. Before she could figure out how to respond, Wyatt had already taken her hand and said to the director, “Just focus on doing your own job.”
The director looked longingly at Yunice, but under Wyatt’s warning gaze, he could only grumble and go back to monitoring Madam Johnson. Wyatt moved forward with his cane. Yunice looked down at their joined hands. Remembering the way he’d once spoken about her, she felt a wave of discomfort and tried to pull away.
Sensing her reaction, Wyatt only tightened his grip. His steps paused as he looked down at her and said, “In Silverburgh, you won’t find a better ally than me.”
Yunice was just about to argue when she caught sight of someone standing at the end of the hallway—Paul. His eyes zeroed in on their clasped hands, and his face twisted with anger as he stormed toward them. Yunice suddenly understood Wyatt was holding her hand to provoke Paul.
Paul barked at her, “Do you even know what time it is? Do the Saunders family have no shame left?” After they got engaged, Paul always held the upper hand. Over the years, he’d grown used to controlling Yunice, refusing to tolerate anything he considered inappropriate. Even with the engagement long broken, Paul still believed Yunice should listen to him. After all, he’d practically raised her. He was responsible for her safety. But even now, after everything, she still hadn’t let go of Wyatt’s hand.
Paul’s face turned red with fury. He raised his voice, scolding her again, “Your brother already told you about the marriage arrangement with the Johnsons, and you even spent the night at their place. Now you’re doing this? Are you trying to let all of Silverburgh know just how shameless you are?”
She spent the night at the Johnsons? How did Paul know that?
Yunice quickly realized Owen and Elsie must’ve told him. And judging by his tone, he clearly thought spending the night meant she had slept with Mr. Johnson. My own brother. My former fiancé. Eighteen years… and this is what they think of me. They really believe it was fine for me to sleep with Mr. Johnson, but holding Wyatt’s hand makes me a disgrace. It’s not that they look down on Wyatt—they just hate that they can’t…
Paul’s eyes burned with rage. “You want to be a disgrace? Fine. But if you drag Elsie’s name into this, I won’t let it slide!” He reached out and grabbed Yunice’s wrist. “You’re coming with me!”
Yunice couldn’t break free. She stumbled, yanked off balance—until Wyatt let go, stepped forward, and shoved Paul hard. Already fuming, Paul nearly fell. That push was the last spark—his brain exploded with rage, logic and restraint completely gone. He swung a punch at Wyatt. Wyatt raised his arm to block, but with his mobility issues, he couldn’t react fast enough. Paul kicked his cane away.
Without support, Wyatt lost his balance. His left knee slammed into the floor tiles. Paul was out of control now. He raised his fist again—aimed straight for Wyatt’s face. Yunice instinctively stepped forward. The punch landed squarely on her. She didn’t make a sound. Her face throbbed with numb, swelling pain, and she curled in on herself, her body moving in pure self-defense.
“Yunice?” Wyatt struggled toward her, his voice sharp with concern. Paul’s anger flared again. “I was going after him! Why’d you get in the way!” He raised his fist again, not satisfied until he got in a few more hits. But he never got the chance. Wyatt’s bodyguards had finally reacted—two of them moved in from behind, grabbed Paul, and slammed him to the ground.
Wyatt knelt beside Yunice, disheveled and aching. Gently, he pried her hands away from her face. His expression darkened instantly. He looked up and locked eyes with Paul. There was ice in his gaze now—pure, calculated fury. Paul, suddenly uncertain, felt his stomach drop. Would that cripple actually lay a hand on me? He got his answer a second later.
“Hit him,” Wyatt said coldly. No hesitation. The guards’ fists landed hard. Paul curled into a ball shielding his head. “You’re dead, you hear me! Crippled bastard, I swear I’ll get you for this!”