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Chapter 44: Wynter Got Into A Fight
As soon as Wynter heard the shout, she dashed out the door before anyone could react. Her movements were swift, grabbing a nearby wooden stick with a cold, determined gleam in her eyes.
A crowd had gathered in the alley, the usual market-goers now whispering among themselves.
“What’s going on here?” someone asked, seeing the commotion.
“They’ve come to accuse Margaret Yates of causing a patient’s death,” another voice replied.
“It can’t be,” someone else protested.
“Why not? Traditional medicine is hard to tell,” came the response.
“I had my neck treated by her just yesterday. Could something have gone wrong?” another voice wondered aloud.
“If this is true, we can’t go to her anymore,” a woman murmured, shaking her head.
Margaret, standing in the middle of the crowd, gripped her cane tightly, her hand turning white as she tried to steady herself. Her legs trembled under the weight of the accusations.
The man leading the charge against her sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “No wonder you’re living so carefree here. Looks like no one knows about your past deeds.”
He mocked her with a shake of his head. “Traditional medicine is on the decline. And you think you can compete with the Gibson family?”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Move aside!” She tried to push her way through, but the man blocked her path.
He scoffed, his words turning venomous. “Stop pretending, old cripple. Wasn’t it your idea to send that girl to the hospital?”
Wynter? Margaret’s heart skipped a beat. “Are you talking about Wynter?” she asked, her voice tinged with both confusion and concern.
“I don’t care what her name is,” the man sneered, his face contorting with disdain. “I wouldn’t be here if my aunt hadn’t sent me. You must be eager to attend the Yarwood family’s medical seminar, right? Here, take this!”
He threw an invitation at Margaret. “If you think you’re capable, then go treat Mr. Yarwood. Let’s see if you old hag can…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Wynter’s foot connected with his chest. The man collapsed to his knees, hitting the ground hard with a grunt of pain.
“Who dares to kick me?” he growled, struggling to turn around, his voice full of fury.
Wynter placed a firm hand on his shoulder, pressing down with cold efficiency. “Me,” she replied indifferently.
The man grimaced, trying to stand, but the pressure on his shoulder was relentless. He swung his fist at her, but Wynter didn’t budge.
Leaning in closer, her voice icy and measured, she asked, “Who did you just call ‘old hag’?”
The man’s body shook in pain, his sweat dripping down his face as the pressure on his shoulder felt like a mountain pinning him down. He couldn’t move an inch.
“What… what does this have to do with you?” he muttered, trying to keep his composure despite the agony.
Wynter’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have much patience. Watch your tone, or else…” She leaned in even closer, her lips near his ear as she whispered, “I’ll dislocate your bones.”
The man’s eyes widened in fear as the joints in his shoulder already began to shift under her touch. His voice quivered. “Miss… Miss, let’s talk nicely.”
Margaret, worried about the scene they were causing, called out, “Wynter!”
The neighbors were watching the scene unfold, and Margaret knew this wasn’t good for Wynter’s reputation.
But Wynter didn’t care. She simply looked at her grandmother with calm resolve. “Grandma, people like this should be punished so they can’t hurt others.”
The man, still pinned down, let out a bitter laugh. “Look who it is, the fake heiress who got kicked out!”
He looked at her, sweat drenching his face as he scoffed. “You better let me go. Grandma’s got a shady past, and the granddaughter’s got no shame. Let’s see who leaves when the police arrive!”
The mention of the police made Margaret step forward, her voice sharp. “George, you’re here for me. If you have something to say, say it. Leave my granddaughter out of this.”
George Gibson, a tall man with an arrogant demeanor, shook the invitation at her. “I’ve given you the invitation. The Gibson family is generous.”
He sneered at her, a mocking edge to his voice. “We’re not sneaky like you, treating patients secretly. Now, my aunt is giving you a chance to openly suck up to the Yarwood family.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. She stepped forward, her voice low but steady. “What’s Hilda up to now?”
George laughed bitterly. “You’ve ended up like this. Who would bother with you?”
He looked at her with contempt. “If you’re not confident in your medical skills, just admit it. You’re probably afraid of using the wrong medicine and killing someone again, right?”
His words set off a ripple of whispers among the onlookers, and the tension in the air thickened. Margaret’s hands froze, the weight of his words causing a silent storm in her.
George’s mocking laughter filled the space, and he sneered, “I knew you wouldn’t…”
Before he could continue, a voice rang out in the distance, teasing and lighthearted, interrupting him. “Three days later? At the Yarwood family?”
The teasing laugh echoed, and suddenly, everyone turned to look as the atmosphere shifted once more.
