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Chapter 28: She Can Cure Him
The room fell into an eerie silence the moment Wynter finished speaking.
Dalton gazed at her calmly, his deep eyes reflecting the light with an elegance and aloofness that made it impossible to read his thoughts.
The doctors, unaware of Dalton’s true identity, could only sense the tension in the air. In the medical field, when a traditional medicine doctor frowns upon a pulse check, it’s always a bad sign.
Wynter’s smile faded, her eyes growing intense as she examined Dalton more carefully. Her expression was serious, now fully aware of the weight of her words.
Could it really be true? Was this man, standing before her, someone who wouldn’t live much longer? Though his face appeared slightly pale, she couldn’t believe he was near death.
The doctors exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, Victor and Jeremy waved dismissively, signaling for them to leave.
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. He felt the sudden urge to pull Wynter away, to shield her from whatever storm she had just unleashed.
Dalton’s health had long been a concern for the entire Yarwood family. It was why they had come to Southdale in the first place—because of the rumors surrounding the miracle doctor who was supposed to be here.
A rumor alone had brought the mighty Yarwood family to this town. The fact that Dalton’s illness was so severe was undeniable.
Wynter had touched upon a very sore subject.
Ethan, standing nearby, couldn’t contain his anger. “What nonsense are you talking about?” he snapped, striding toward Wynter, his muscular frame radiating tension. He could easily lift her up if he wanted to.
But Dalton reached out with a steady hand, blocking Ethan’s path. Coughing softly, he gave a quiet but firm warning. “Ethan.”
Ethan’s fists clenched, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s cursing you, Mr. Yarwood!” he shouted.
Wynter quickly withdrew her hand from Dalton’s pulse, unbothered by the outburst.
As a doctor, she had encountered situations like this before. After all, no family wanted to hear that their loved one might be on the verge of death.
She had her principles, though. She wouldn’t treat anyone who didn’t believe in her diagnosis.
Her decision to take Dalton’s pulse had been instinctive. He was different from the others. Something about him—his demeanor, his bearing—told her he was a noble, virtuous man. Unfortunately, that same air of nobility seemed to come with a tragic, terminal illness.
Ever since she was five, her grandfather had taught her to help those with noble yet unlucky fates, should she ever encounter them.
This was the first time she had met someone who truly embodied such an ethereal, otherworldly aura, and she felt compelled to do everything in her power to save him.
But she wouldn’t force him, especially with his family so opposed to it.
Just as she had started to withdraw, Dalton spoke, his voice calm and surprisingly cheerful. “I know.”
The words sent a wave of shock through the room. How could he be so calm, knowing his days were numbered?
“Did you choose me because you could diagnose my illness?” Dalton’s sharp gaze met hers. He was skilled at reading people, and his question made it clear that he had already guessed her intention.
Wynter didn’t hide it from him. She nodded. “Your illness… it seems to stem from birth or something else I haven’t encountered before. I need more time to observe and make a clear diagnosis.”
Hearing this, Ethan stepped back in disbelief. She was right! Dalton’s condition had always been a mystery to the family, a secret that only the Yarwoods knew.
Ethan’s eyes lit up with hope, and he stepped forward eagerly. “Doctor…” he began, his voice filled with urgency.
“Ethan,” Dalton’s low voice cut through the tension. His tone was cold, a warning to his overzealous bodyguard. “Don’t be rude.”
But Ethan, undeterred by Dalton’s warning, took a risk. “Mr. Yarwood, since she can tell what’s wrong just by your pulse, she can definitely cure you!”
