Chapter 46: Burnt Bridges
Wyatt ignored Paul completely. He reached for his cane with some effort, then helped Yunice to her feet. She clutched her head, dizzy and unsteady. The two of them looked just as battered—only by leaning on each other could they stay upright. With one arm wrapped around her waist, Wyatt frowned and said in a low voice, “Come with me.”
Staggering and limping, they made their way forward as Paul took his beating in silence. He shielded his head with both hands, but his eyes stayed fixed on Yunice’s back, burning with resentment. He couldn’t understand it. Why was Yunice leaving with that cripple? Why had she taken the hit for Wyatt? She used to shield him from harm…
Did she really fall for Wyatt? They’d spent eighteen years side by side. How could she fall for someone else so easily?
By the time Wyatt and Yunice reached their room, she was half-unconscious. Jordan came running over, shocked. “What happened to her!” Still holding Yunice up, Wyatt swiped his keycard with his free hand and said, “Get the doctor.” Then he nudged the door open with his cane, his whole body straining to support her weight.
Jordan hesitated. “You sure you’ve got her?” Wyatt turned back. “Why are you still here? Go get the director. Him personally.” Jordan gave up trying to help. “Fine.”
Only after he left did Wyatt get Yunice onto the bed. Her face was flushed, and her breathing fast. Wyatt sat beside her and touched her forehead. She was burning hot. He remembered the ginger soup she hadn’t gotten a chance to drink. She must’ve already been coming down with something—yet she still held it together long enough to save Madam Johnson.
Wyatt’s thoughts twisted into knots as he slipped off her shoes and tucked the blanket around her. When Director Jake arrived to examine Yunice, Wyatt stepped out to talk with Jordan in the hallway.
Jordan looked uneasy. “Paul took a real beating. Someone from the Powell family came to pick him up.” Wyatt still hadn’t calmed down. If anything, he thought Paul got off too easily. Jordan offered a suggestion. “Wyatt, maybe fake some injuries yourself. Otherwise, the Powell family…”
The Powell patriarch was fiercely protective of his bloodline. Paul was his only direct heir, and he’d made it clear that all family assets would eventually be handed down to him. Wyatt might’ve been Paul’s uncle in name, but in that family, he was never welcome.
Jordan knew better than to push it. He let the subject drop. Over an hour passed before Jake finally came out of the room. “Wyatt.” Both men looked at him. Jake glanced at Wyatt—he’d been standing the whole time?
Wyatt’s eyes grew impatient, so Jake cleared his thoughts and began his report. “Ms. Saunders has a high fever from catching a chill. But I also found several untreated internal injuries. Honestly, they look like signs of long-term abuse.”
Jake’s voice hardened. At this point, he’d gained a lot of respect for Yunice—and the idea of her being mistreated genuinely pissed him off. “Abuse?” Jordan looked skeptical. “I’ve dealt with the Saunders family before. They spoil her rotten. I even brought gifts for her on Owen’s behalf when I went to England.”
Jake shot back, “Then where did all the injuries come from?” He was certain—someone had abused her. Wyatt remained silent, eyes distant, cold.
Jordan was still thinking it through. “I heard she was in a psych hospital for a while, but the Saunders family probably pulled strings. No way they’d let her be bullied. Maybe the injuries came from something else.” He looked at Wyatt. “Want me to investigate?”
Wyatt didn’t answer the question. Instead, he asked Jake, “Can she recover?” Jake understood he was asking about Yunice. “With rest and care, yes.”
Wyatt crushed his cigarette against the cobblestone. His voice turned dry and sharp. “Madam Johnson was at death’s door, and Morgan already went ahead to clear the path?”
Jordan blinked. What? Weren’t they just talking about Yunice? Why bring up Morgan now? Jake suddenly smacked his forehead. “No one’s keeping watch over Madam Johnson. Mr. Conrad, maybe send someone to fetch Mr. Johnson.” Morgan was her biological grandson. He had time—he should’ve been here.