Chapter 724 The Stolen Emblem
Wyatt cut straight to the point. “Are you sick?”
Yunice rolled her eyes so hard it nearly hurt. “You’re the one who’s sick.”
Turning away, she washed her hands, presenting him only her back.
He pressed on. “You’ve looked unwell since you came back. Did something leave lasting damage before?”
Joe had warned him—Yunice’s body was fragile, not fit for strain, and certainly not fit for children.
Without turning, Yunice replied flatly, “No. I just got back from overseas. Jet lag, a bit of adjustment to the food and water. That’s all.”
His tense brow eased a little. That explained the long naps, the lack of appetite.
From outside came the click of high heels.
“Out of order?” someone muttered, then gasped when they spotted Wyatt inside the women’s restroom. They quickly turned and headed upstairs instead.
Yunice grabbed a paper towel and walked past him. “Stop standing here disgracing yourself.”
Wyatt slid a hand into his pocket, striding alongside her. “This entire mall is mine. Can’t I stand in my own restroom?”
“Showing off your wealth, Mr. Wyatt?”
“What use is wealth when you look down on it?” His voice was dry, humorless.
Her steps faltered. Her gaze shifted to his arm.
He wore his usual black jacket–the kind that swallowed stains into its dark weave. Yet she spotted the soaked patch, a fist-sized bloom of deeper shadow where blood had seeped through.
Wyatt caught her half-formed words and followed her eyes. “It’s nothing. It’ll heal on its own soon enough.”
That casual dismissal stung more than arrogance ever could. She knew what it meant to ignore wounds until they numbed over. It wasn’t strength. It was the absence of anyone who cared.
Her voice tightened. “Come with me.”
She led him into an empty janitor’s room, shut the door, and told him to take off the jacket.
He sat obediently on the bench. She rolled his sleeve back, found the split wound, and dug through her bag for supplies.
Her focus was sharp, delicate as she sprinkled powder over the raw skin.
Wyatt didn’t flinch. Instead, with his free hand, he rummaged curiously through her bag.
He plucked out a small white pill bottle, twisted the cap open with one hand, and tipped it. “These aren’t Itopride Hydrochloride tablets.”
Yunice barely glanced at it. “I don’t want just anyone picking up my kit and using it. That’s arsenic. Careful you don’t poison yourself.”
Wyatt gave a short hiss. “What did you do abroad, swallow gunpowder?”
The edge in her tone was undeniable.
She bent closer, adding another layer of powder to his wound. Her breath brushed his skin; his lashes lowered as he studied the slope of her neck, the way her hair slipped against pale skin. His hand twitched with the urge to touch.
Then–clatter. The bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor.
Both reached for it at once. Their hands overlapped, fingers pressing together against cool plastic.
Wyatt leaned down at the same time. Something slipped from his shirt pocket, landing by her feet.
Yunice ignored the bottle, scooping up the fallen item instead.
Her eyes froze. The emblem.
Her old medical university badge.
She lifted her gaze. “You stole this?”
Wyatt’s face hardened, but his hand was quick–snatching it from her palm. “I found it.”
“You don’t know what returning something means?”
He tucked the badge back into the inner pocket, close against his chest. “If it’s yours, why don’t you call it and see if it answers?”
Her laugh was bitter. “You stole my badge in high school. You steal it again in college. If you like them that much, I’ll print you a truckload.”
His brow arched. “So you’re giving me gifts now?”
Her smile vanished. For a moment she wanted to slap him–only to fear he’d catch her hand and kiss it instead.
Snapping her bag shut, Yunice turned on her heel and walked out.