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Novel Catalog
Chapter 45: Wynter Decided to Take Action Herself
Wynter held the invitation card between her fingers, her gaze cold and calculating as she addressed George. “Go back and tell Mrs. Gibson Senior that the Empathy Clinic will be there on time. Hopefully, the Gibson family can manage and avoid getting into any trouble.”
George scoffed, clearly unbothered. “What do you think the Gibson family is? Can we even get into trouble?” He spoke with haughty arrogance, the kind of confidence only a person with too much power could have.
“No one in Southdale dares to lay a finger on the Gibson family,” he continued, puffing out his chest. “The Gibson family is the law of Southdale. You better remember that, young lady.”
Wynter’s expression didn’t change as she calmly chewed on a sweet. “I always remember,” she said, her eyes darkening with quiet menace.
George, still underestimating her, turned and walked off, his pride intact. He didn’t even spare a second thought to the way Wynter had dismissed him.
But as soon as he got into the car and tried to relax, something felt off. His arm. The sensation was gone. He moved it experimentally, but it was limp—his joints refused to cooperate. Panic surged in his chest.
“Why does my arm feel like this?” George muttered, trying to shake it off, but the pain only intensified.
“Hurry! Let’s go home and find Aunt Hilda!” he shouted at his driver, breaking into a cold sweat. He couldn’t believe it. Was he… disabled?
“No. I’m not,” he whispered to himself, trying to convince himself that Hilda would be able to heal him.
The driver, clueless about what had happened, glanced over his shoulder. “Is something wrong, Mr. George?”
“Faster! Drive faster!” George barked, his voice edged with panic.
As the car drove away, Wynter stood at the entrance of the alley, her gaze lingering, eyes still sharp with hostility. The onlookers were still murmuring among themselves, and Margaret, her grandmother, seemed shaken.
Wynter turned to Margaret, her face softening slightly. She picked up the shopping bag from the ground and smiled. “Let’s go home, Grandma. My friends are still waiting to eat the shrimp you cook.”
Margaret blinked as if coming out of a daze. “Yes, let’s go home now. Look at me—so forgetful.” She steadied herself, and Wynter helped her walk, her arm wrapped around her grandmother’s shoulder.
The neighbors, still watching the scene, quieted as they saw the interaction. Wynter smiled and greeted them casually as they walked. “Did you buy a pumpkin too, Aunt Ruth?”
Ruth Webb, her face slightly flushed, seemed uncomfortable. “Yes, yes. Hurry up and help your grandma walk home, Wynter. She’s worried about something.”
Wynter nodded with a brief smile. “Okay.”
The neighbors, sensing the tension had passed, fell silent. No one dared to gossip further. Susan, seeing Wynter’s composed demeanor, decided to help with the groceries. “Don’t take it to heart, Wynter. Ruth and the others didn’t mean anything bad.”
Wynter’s voice remained cool and indifferent. “I know. I’ll put the saddle on the right horse.”
She had a very clear idea of who needed to be dealt with.
Susan exhaled, relieved, though she couldn’t hide the anxiety in her eyes. Everyone else had avoided walking past the clinic for the rest of the day, their fear palpable. Margaret had lived in the neighborhood for years, but this was the first time anyone had heard of her being accused of causing a patient’s death.
The weight of the situation hung heavy, and the clinic had never felt so eerily quiet.
Sergio, who had been following Wynter, couldn’t hold back any longer. After Wynter safely got Margaret back inside, he hesitantly approached. “Is your grandma Margaret Yates, Dr. Genius?”
Wynter closed the door behind her, giving him a cold glance. “What? Have you heard of her before?”
Sergio hesitated, his unease clear. “I… Some of the older family members mentioned rumors.”
Wynter’s eyes narrowed, her smile sharp but chilling. “What rumors? Can you tell me?”
Sergio flinched under her gaze. After a pause, he swallowed and spoke quickly, “You don’t have to listen to those rumors. They’re unreliable.”
Wynter leaned in, her voice deliberate and slow. “What if I insist? I want to know these rumors.”
Sergio, now visibly sweating, took a deep breath. “The rumors say there were not four, but five medical families in Southdale. And the most outstanding one was actually your grandma, Margaret Yates.”
Wynter’s eyes darkened, and she stood perfectly still, absorbing the words. Her grandmother’s legacy was far more complicated than anyone had let on.
