Chapter 8
At those words, Joshua glanced at Shermaine, his gaze calm. “You know medicine?”
“A little,” Shermaine replied modestly.
“It’s thoughtful of you, but my grandfather’s illness has already stumped every top doctor in the country. It’s beyond saving. No one can help him now,” Joshua stated it plainly.
Shermaine raised an eyebrow. “I’m not like them.”
“How so?”
“I’m better than them.”
Joshua let out a faint smile. It wasn’t that he thought she was arrogant–on the contrary, when she said it, it actually sounded believable.
The look in her eyes was steady and sure, the kind of quiet confidence that held the world at a distance. There was none of that crude, backwoods air the rumors liked to paint her with.
At the very least, she meant well. He gave a nod. “You’ll meet my grandfather soon. When you do, you can take a look at him.”
Shermaine nodded in agreement.
Once they reached the third floor and she was laid on the bed, it finally hit her. Joshua had carried her all the way up with ease, not even out of breath.
Clearly, he was in excellent shape.
He said, “The doctor will be here soon to play along. I have something to take care of. Excuse me.”
“Alright,” Shermaine nodded.
Joshua looked at her, then dropped another surprise. “You’re moving into my place next week.”
Shermaine went quiet. She thought, ‘We’re only engaged, and we’re already living together?’
As if sensing her confusion, Joshua explained, “It’s my grandfather’s request. Don’t worry, the place will be yours. I’ll move out. I won’t be dropping by unless necessary.”
Shermaine gave it a moment of thought, then agreed, “Okay.”
After leaving the Jean residence, Joshua got into his car. He opened his hand. Behind the gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes darkened.
It felt like Shermaine’s warmth still lingered on his skin. Her waist was small, and her body was so soft it felt like he could break her with one hand when she clung to him like that.
Her scent was sweet, almost dangerously so. It was the kind of sweetness that could hook a man in just one breath and make it impossible to quit.
The family doctor didn’t arrive until thirty minutes later. Shermaine woke up to the scent of smelling salts.
As soon as Joshua left, she’d started thinking in bed. Somewhere between those thoughts, she’d drifted off.
Jameson, Ruth, and the three ladies were still nearby. The doctor’s name was Alfred Jordan. He looked to be in his early thirties–young, with a clean, handsome face. But he still didn’t hold a candle to Joshua.
With a professional smile, Alfred said, “Ms. Shue, you’re finally awake.”
Shermaine answered, “Yeah.”
Alfred asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Still a little dizzy,” she replied, sliding right back into her act.
Alfred nodded. “Does the area where you were massaged still hurt?”
Shermaine remarked, “It does.”
“The human body has very complex pressure points, especially around the head. A small mistake can lead to serious issues. That esthetician definitely used too much force,” he commented. That line was clearly meant for Jameson and the others.
Then Alfred asked, “Ms. Shue, how are you anemic? Is the Jean family not feeding you properly?”
Shermaine was perfectly healthy. Anemia wasn’t even close to the truth. She kept a straight face. “Everyone at home likes spicy food. The dishes just don’t agree with me.”
Alfred frowned. “Why not ask the chef to ease up on the chili?”
Shermaine sighed, “I did. They didn’t care.”
Alfred smiled, “Ms. Shue, I’ll prescribe you some vitamins. If word gets out that the Jean family’s heiress is anemic because the household meals don’t suit her, people are going to laugh.”
Jameson and Ruth both turned red with embarrassment.
The three ladies exchanged looks. They all thought, ‘So the Jean family really has been harsh with Shermaine. But this girl’s no pushover–soft on the outside, sharp as a blade underneath, and every word cuts right to the bone.’
Jameson froze for a moment and then said in a gentle tone, “Shermaine, I’ve already fired that esthetician. She’s still waiting outside. If you’re still upset, I can have someone bring her in to apologize.”
Shermaine said lazily, “No need for an apology. Let her keep standing out there until I’m in a better mood. I can’t stand being wrongfully accused. That esthetician had the nerve to pin something on me for no reason–she clearly looked down on me.
“But I don’t blame her. After all, my own parents don’t care about me. Everyone calls me the Jean family’s heiress, but no one actually treats me like I matter.
“And my own family treats me even worse. They let people take advantage of me if they feel like it, and let anyone who wants to bully me just get away with it.”
The facts were plain to see, but hearing them said out loud–and in front of others–still left the Jean family deeply embarrassed.
Everyone could tell Shermaine wasn’t just talking about outsiders. She was calling out her own family.
The guilt in Jameson’s chest grew heavier, and with Joshua now backing Shermaine, Jameson didn’t dare say a word against her–even if she had just embarrassed him.
Jameson’s tone softened even more. “Shermaine, I’ve been too busy to give you the attention you deserve. From now on, if anyone tries to mess with you, just tell me. I’ll make it right.”
Shermaine played along. “Alright. Thank you, Dad.”
That response eased Jameson’s nerves. But after everything that had happened with Shermaine lately, he was definitely going to have a word with Ruth.
Jameson thought, ‘She’s Ruth’s own daughter, not some outsider. Has Ruth gotten so old she’s starting to lose her damn mind?’
“Shermaine-” Ruth started, trying to salvage some dignity.
Shermaine pulled the blanket up slightly, cutting in without hesitation, “I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
Ruth’s face stiffened.
Jameson stepped in. “Alright. Get some rest.”
Once everyone left the room, Jameson’s expression turned cold. He looked at Ruth and said, “Come with me to the study.”
Wendelyn stayed behind to see the guests out. When she returned upstairs, all she could hear was the sound of arguing coming from the second floor.
But Jameson was the head of the household. No matter how angry Ruth was, she didn’t dare push back too hard. She had no choice but to swallow her anger and keep it bottled up.
Jameson said, “I’m warning you–start treating Shermaine better. She’s going to marry into the York family. If you piss her off, there’s nothing in it for us.”
“Wendy is obviously more capable than Shermaine. She’s a better match for him,” Ruth snapped back.
Jameson gave a cold laugh. “So what if she’s better? Is Joshua interested in her? Don’t think I don’t see what you and Wendy are trying to pull. From now on, you’d better remember this–Shermaine is your real daughter.
“No matter what you think of her, she’s the rightful heiress of the Jean family. It’s about time you got real clear on exactly where Wendy stands.”
Ruth said nothing after that. No one knew what was going through her mind. She thought, ‘He’s right. She’s just a foster daughter, after all.’
Outside the door, Wendelyn was eavesdropping. A cold smirk curled at the corner of her lips. She refused to accept it.
After Alfred left, he gave Joshua a call. From the way he spoke, it was clear they were on familiar terms.
Alfred said, “Your fiancée’s not bad. Once she marries into your family, she’s only going to make you look good–never the opposite.”
Joshua looked at the file in his hand. “What did she do this time?”
Alfred gave a quick rundown. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, then added his own take. “But she’s a bit too sharp. That kind of edge breaks easily and makes it easy to offend people.”
Joshua could picture her embarrassing the Jean family in front of everyone. The thought was oddly amusing.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. In a rare good mood, he spoke up for her, “She doesn’t pick fights without reason.”
Alfred chuckled, “Mr. York, you’ve only met her twice, and you’re already defending her?”
“Just calling it like I see it,” Joshua said.
Alfred raised an eyebrow, his expression casual and a little too laid-back for a doctor. “I’m not worried about her stirring up trouble. I’m more concerned trouble’s going to find her first.
“She’s the long-lost Jean heiress, and soon she’ll be your wife. Once that news gets out, plenty of women are going to be seething with jealousy. Take Wendelyn, the other Jean heiress, for instance. Something tells me she’s not about to let this slide.”
Back in the room earlier, Alfred had caught a glimpse of Wendelyn’s expression when she looked at Shermaine. If looks could kill, Shermaine would’ve dropped dead on the spot. It shocked him—he never expected the supposedly gentle and graceful Wendelyn to show something that vicious.
Joshua didn’t respond. He thought, ‘Wendelyn’s nothing. Shermaine can handle her just fine.’