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Chapter 50: Stay Out of Trouble? Forget It!
“Wynter! How can you say that about Dr. Miracle?” Margaret was taken aback, her face full of disbelief. “He may not look like much, but he’s a good man underneath all that!” She held her phone closer, her eyes sparkling with admiration, like a starry-eyed fan.
Wynter rubbed her forehead in exasperation. She had been in the medical field long enough to know when something smelled fishy, and this situation reeked of it. “Grandma, he’s definitely fake.”
“Fake?” Margaret pushed her reading glasses up her nose and squinted at the screen. “Oh, I need to take a closer look!”
Wynter crossed her arms, her tone steady but firm. “I promise, I won’t stir up trouble, Grandma. But you need to trust me on this one.”
“I’m not worried about trouble,” Margaret sighed, her gaze softening as she watched Wynter. “I’m worried about my bad reputation getting you into trouble. When you go there, don’t even mention the Empathy Clinic.”
Wynter gave her a reassuring smile. “I won’t, don’t worry.”
Margaret continued, her voice filled with concern. “I’ll ask my friend’s grandson to take you along so you two can keep an eye on each other. And, it’s best to avoid the Gibsons while you’re there. Stay out of their way.”
Wynter thought for a moment. If she was supposed to avoid the Gibsons, why was she even going? But she didn’t voice that question. Instead, she nodded with a smile. “Okay.”
As the evening settled in, the tension in the air was palpable, but only Wolf knew what was truly at stake. The Gibsons were about to lose everything, and Wynter was prepared to make sure of it.
Before bed, Wynter spoke to Wolf in a low voice. “I’ll help you hack into the National Defense System. We’ll report everything we find.”
Wolf nodded enthusiastically, ready for the challenge.
Meanwhile, at the Gibson family mansion, things were looking up for them, at least on the surface.
Hilda was holding a box, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Since we got our hands on the Zenith herb, the Yarwoods have been treating us like royalty,” she said, almost giddy with excitement.
Luke, sitting next to her, flattered her shamelessly. “You’re so smart, Madam Gibson. We’re on top of the world because of you.”
The entire family was thrilled, eagerly anticipating the seminar where they planned to showcase their “success.”
“We’ll definitely make a splash at the seminar!” someone chimed in.
But Jason Gibson, the eldest son, didn’t share their enthusiasm. He looked troubled, his gaze fixed on Hilda. “What happened to George’s arm? Haven’t you treated him yet?” He was clearly agitated. His son had gone out to run an errand, only to return with a dislocated arm that couldn’t be set back. Jason was struggling to feel excited about anything with that looming over him.
Hilda dismissed his concern with a wave. “I’ve checked George’s arm, Jason. It’s nothing serious. He’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
Jason opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by a low, commanding voice from the corner of the room.
“Don’t dwell on such trivial things, Jason.”
The voice belonged to Arthur Gibson, the patriarch of the family. At over a hundred years old, his frailty was obvious—his hunched back and gray hair made him seem like a shadow of his former self. But his sharp, sullen eyes held a power that commanded respect.
“Dad!” both Hilda and Jason exclaimed, shocked to see him back so soon. “Why are you back? Aren’t you busy in Kingbourne?”
Arthur didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he waved them off, signaling for the others to leave the room.
Once they were alone, he slammed his cane on the floor, his voice growing louder. “The Gibson family will collapse if I don’t return!”
Hilda and Jason exchanged a worried look. This was not like Arthur. They could feel the gravity in his words.
Arthur’s piercing gaze swept over them. “Did you know that someone in Southdale is investigating us?”
“Investigating the Gibsons?” Hilda sneered. “Who is it? Let’s get rid of them.”
Arthur’s eyes flashed with anger. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed a teacup and hurled it at her. The teacup shattered with a loud bang. Hilda flinched, lowering her head in shame.
“What an idiot!” Arthur growled, taking a puff from his cigarette, his breath labored and shaky. “How many times do I have to tell you? You have to be careful with every word you speak and every action you take! Even if you despise someone, don’t let it show!”
Hilda, trembling slightly, apologized, “I was wrong, Dad.”
Arthur’s expression softened for a moment, but his eyes still held the cold, calculating gleam of someone who had lived too long to be naive. “I’m not going to say much more. I’ve already made arrangements in Southdale. Nothing will be exposed. But this is the last time I’m going to help you cover up your mistakes.”
Jason, still concerned, stood silent. The weight of his father’s words hung heavy in the room. The Gibsons may have won this round, but their future remained uncertain.
As Arthur’s eyes scanned the room, his mind was already working on their next move. The game wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot.
And Wynter was determined to make sure it ended in their defeat.
