Chapter 13

Shermaine and Joshua headed downstairs.

“Your grandpa’s asleep?” Shermaine asked.

“Yeah,” Joshua nodded.

Shermaine added, “Once he wakes up, I’ll check his condition.”

Joshua didn’t turn her down. He figured that would be a good idea.

Some people drank to blow off steam, some for pleasure. But for others, drinking was an art.

Shermaine followed Joshua down to the wine cellar on the basement level.

It was noticeably cooler down there. Bottles of wine lined the room, neatly arranged, stretching as far as the eye could see. It was quite the sight.

Shermaine was slightly surprised. “You’re into wine too?”

“Sort of,” Joshua replied.

Shermaine thought, ‘Sort of? Seriously?’ She studied him. On the surface, Joshua looked refined and composed, but deep down, he had a kind of wildness no one could tame. He wasn’t the kind of man just any woman could handle, let alone win over.

Shermaine had a taste for challenge, but she was never reckless when it came to relationships. She only flirted with people she was genuinely into—and only if she was looking for something long-term.

When it came to love, her standards leaned toward a once-in-a-lifetime, one-on-one kind of bond. What she really wanted was to find someone who felt the same way she did, to love each other, live happily, and grow old together.

However, in her eyes, Joshua was an unexpected twist in her life plan, and it was a shame that he wasn’t the gift the universe meant for her.

The engagement had been a surprise, but if it turned into love after marriage, she wouldn’t be against it. Still, Joshua was detached and indifferent to worldly desires, so Shermaine would be sure to stay in her lane and never overstep.

The collection here spanned wines and spirits from different regions, countries, and eras–each matched with its own glassware. Some were ordinary, some expensive, and made from different materials.

For example, the Baccarat crystal goblet in front of her had once belonged to royalty from hundreds of years ago. It was extremely rare, and its market value was conservatively estimated at 100 million dollars.

When it came to drinking, Joshua was clearly more particular and distinctive than most.

Joshua spoke, “Pick one.”

Choosing a glass wasn’t hard. Shermaine liked her drinks strong, and a whiskey glass was the obvious choice. “This one,” she said. She was genuinely intrigued by Joshua’s liquor collection.

After picking out a glass, Shermaine looked at the rows of whiskey, tequila, and vodka on the shelves. Even as someone who’d tasted countless bottles, there were many here she’d never had–liquors that were priceless and nearly impossible to find.

She licked her lip. “As your fiancée, I should have the right to enjoy these fine bottles, shouldn’t I?”

Joshua gave a faint smile, casual as ever. “You do.”

For the first time, Shermaine felt like being Joshua’s fiancée was actually a pretty great thing–free drinks came with the title.

She curved her lips into a smile, bright and striking. Her fingers were slender and delicate, perfect for piano. Those soft hands imaged premium bottles, then paused. She chuckled, “Then I’ll gladly accept this bottle of Venus vodka.”

That bottle of Venus Vodka was worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Shermaine certainly knew how to pick.

And the fact that a woman actually liked liquor that strong–most wouldn’t dare–fit her vibe perfectly; it was bold and vivid, just like her. It turned out that when it came to drinking, the two of them had something in common. The stronger, the better.

“Alright.” Joshua’s expression didn’t change. He stepped forward, and a clean, sharp scent drifted toward her. Shermaine felt her heart flip just slightly as she watched him raise his arm and reach for a bottle above her head.

It was a bottle of Rémy Martin Louis XIII, the Black Pearl Reserve–an absolute rarity.

Joshua took a step back with the bottle in hand. “You might want to try this.”

Shermaine took it and teased with a smile, “Mr. York, it’s very generous of you.”

The moon hung high, the night quiet and beautiful.

Owen woke up. After getting up, he grabbed his cane and made his way downstairs. His throat felt scratchy and full of phlegm, and he kept coughing.

The sound of it echoed loud enough to catch the attention of Joshua and Shermaine.

Shermaine walked over and sat beside Owen, reaching out to check his pulse.

Owen stopped coughing. “Sheary, why are you holding my wrist like that?”

“Checking your pulse,” Shermaine said.

Owen chuckled when he heard that, “What, you know medicine?”

“A little,” Shermaine nodded.

“So, can you tell what’s wrong with me?” Owen wasn’t doubting her ability–he was just asking casually.

Without hesitation, Shermaine said, “It’s your liver.”

She grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the table. “You must’ve had an injury to your liver when you were younger. It left some lasting damage. That’s why your health’s been so bad in your later years.”

Owen froze for a second–she was spot on. His problem was indeed with his liver, and it had stemmed from an old injury in his younger years.

That was why, even though he had seen countless specialists and taken all kinds of medicine in his old age, nothing had worked.

By now, Shermaine had already finished writing out a prescription. “But it’s not untreatable. Sir, if you follow this prescription and take the medicine accordingly, you’ll recover in three months.”

Owen could hardly believe it. ‘Recover? Even the best doctors in Basterel haven’t been able to fix me, and Shermaine thinks her prescription will actually work?’ he wondered.

He had long stopped holding out hope, so he didn’t dwell on it. “Alright. Got it.”

Shermaine reminded him, “Sir, you have to remember–if you’re taking my medicine, you can’t take anything else prescribed by other doctors.”

“Okay,” Owen said, trusting Shermaine completely.

Off to the side, Joshua pressed his lips together, as if he wanted to say something. But after one look from Owen, he remained quiet. Owen stood up and said, “Sheary, I’ll head out now.”

“See you soon,” Shemaine smiled. “If you miss me, just call. I’ll come check on you.”

“Will do,” Owen laughed.

Outside, a black car was waiting by the front door. Joshua helped Owen out and said, “Grandpa, you just agreed to Shermaine’s prescription without thinking twice. You’re not taking your health seriously at all.”

Joshua thought, ‘If Grandpa stops taking the medicine Dr. Newman prescribed, his condition could very well get worse. And if there’s something wrong with Shermaine’s prescription and it causes side effects, then what?’

Owen waved him off. “Shermaine means well. I can’t just dismiss her kindness–she’s going to be your future wife. I’ll give it a try for a couple of days, if something’s off, I’ll stop. Besides, Dr. Newman’s medicine hasn’t done much for me anyway. I’ve already given up on getting better. Right now, I’m just waiting to die.”

During dinner, Shermaine could feel the tension coming off Joshua. She thought for a moment, then asked, “Are you worried there’s something wrong with the prescription I gave your grandfather?”

Joshua didn’t answer.

Shermaine said, “Don’t worry. If anything goes wrong after he takes it, you can come after me. I won’t say a word in my defense.”

Being distrusted was nothing new to her now. After all, she had never shown anyone her skills in medicine, and to the outside world, she was just some uneducated girl from a poor village.

Joshua looked at her. “You really are bold.”

Shermaine smiled, “That’s because I have the skills to back it up. If you don’t believe me, just wait–time will prove everything.”

After that, the two of them didn’t exchange another word.

Joshua carried himself with such composure that even something as mundane and necessary as a meal felt refined, almost aristocratic. He moved with quiet precision, and when he was just about done, he set down his utensils. “I’m done. Take your time.”

Shermaine gave a slight nod. She was slow to warm up to people. Back when she first had dinner with the Jean family, she didn’t have any appetite at all.

But tonight, having dinner with Joshua didn’t feel nearly as tense. The food looked good, and she even helped herself to a second serving.

Just then, her phone rang. Shermaine pulled it out and glanced at the screen. It was a call from Danielle Shelly.

Danielle was a friend Shermaine had met during her years studying at various Ivy League schools. She was a surgeon–famous for her talent, beauty and her cool, untouchable demeanor.

The two of them were tight. Danielle was a bit older and had always looked out for Shermaine.

After arriving in Basterel, the first person Shermaine had contacted was Danielle.

Shermaine answered the call and spoke slowly, “Aren’t you supposed to be busy these days? What’s got you calling me?”

Danielle got straight to the point. “Sheary, are you still performing surgeries for people?” Her voice had that distinct cool edge.

Shermaine replied, “I need the money, so yeah.”

Danielle clearly hadn’t expected that to be the reason. She let out a dry chuckle. “I’ve got a high-profile patient on my hands–someone of considerable influence. The case is complicated. Can you get here now?”