Chapter 44: The Gamble
A nurse spoke up in panic. “Exactly! Madam Johnson means a lot to Wyatt. If anything happens to her, he’ll make you pay with your life!”
Yunice didn’t even turn her head. Her voice was calm and steady. “I know.” As she spoke, she placed another needle at the Shenting point on Madam Johnson’s scalp. The director of neurology watched with growing anxiety, fists clenched in fury. “You’re playing with her life! If she dies from your random poking, we won’t be able to save her even if we try!”
“Enough of this nonsense. Someone get her away from the patient and prep for a craniotomy immediately!” He’d had enough. With one sharp command, his assistants stepped forward to take action.
Yunice shot them a cold glare and snapped, “If anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility. Can you say the same!” That single sentence made everyone freeze in hesitation.
Madam Johnson was already elderly. The risks of surgery were exponentially higher—especially brain surgery. One slip and she could end up in a coma, or worse, die on the table. That was precisely why Wyatt hadn’t wanted to take the risk—why he had switched medical teams at the last minute. They had expected someone more professional, more authoritative, not some arrogant little girl!
The director flung his hands in the air, furious. Fine, let’s see how this reckless kid plans to pay with her life. But the moment he turned around, he froze. Wyatt was standing at the doorway, cane in hand. Who knew how long he had been there?
Realizing that Wyatt must have heard Yunice’s bold words yet hadn’t stepped in to stop her filled the director with frustration. If she failed, wouldn’t it be their mess to clean up? Wyatt must be out of his mind, getting played by a woman like this.
A crowd had gathered at the door, including Wyatt himself, all silently watching Yunice work. Yunice was still applying acupuncture. She’d gone from standing to sitting at Madam Johnson’s bedside. Her demeanor was calm, almost serene—less like someone trying to save a life and more like someone performing a wellness treatment.
The silver needles remained in place. Each time Yunice twisted or nudged one, Madam Johnson would twitch, her fingers sometimes curling into claw-like shapes. Every movement made the onlookers tense, terrified that the next twitch might be her last breath. But Yunice didn’t seem fazed. She even began massaging the elderly woman’s head and shoulders.
The director couldn’t take it anymore. Even with Wyatt watching, he exploded, “Her problem is in the cerebral blood vessels! It’s a blood clot, a cerebral infarction! What the hell are you doing!”
“Wyatt, if you let this continue, you’ll be killing her! Is that what you want!” Wyatt’s brow furrowed, fingers unconsciously tightening around his cane. Of course, he didn’t want Madam Johnson to die—but somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Yunice could do it. This wasn’t just Yunice’s gamble—it was his too.
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