Chapter 69 Shadows at the Door
Natalie looked up at the voice.
Before her stood a tall, broad man in a blue shirt, easily one meter eighty–five, built strong and
solid.
She gestured toward the consultation chair. “Sit here. Let me take a look.”
The man unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his chest. “I don’t know if I ate something wrong, but I’m covered in rashes. I’ve been to the hospital, but nothing helps. They said you’re skilled, so I
came.”
“Just roll up your sleeve,” Natalie instructed coolly.
He dropped his collar, tugged up his right sleeve, and laid his arm before her.
“Allergic reaction,” she said immediately after a glance.
“Allergic? Impossible! I’ve seen doctors for nearly a week. None said it was that.”
Atlas stepped closer, peering at the man’s skin. His voice was calm but firm. “This looks like paint allergy. People who work with paint build some tolerance, but new materials can still trigger it.”
Natalie shot Atlas a smile–impressed. He had spotted it just as she had. The boy really did have skill.
“And your work?” Natalie asked, studying the man. “Does it expose you to paint?”
“I make furniture. I do use paint, but I’ve been resting lately. Haven’t touched it for a while.”
Natalie reached for his wrist, took his pulse, and spoke evenly. “It’s an allergy. I’ll prescribe three doses of medicine and a topical ointment. Take them, then return for review. And avoid seafood.”
The man’s face darkened. “What if I eat it?”
Before Natalie could respond, Atlas’s tone sharpened. “Then your condition could worsen. Mild cases mean difficulty breathing. Severe–shock, even death. Don’t test it.”
The man nodded faintly, silent.
Natalie printed out the prescription and handed it to Atlas, “Prepare the herbs. I’ll step out for
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a moment.”
“Yes.”
She left.
The man’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure. Slowly, his lips curled into a sly, dangerous smile.
No one saw.
When she returned, he was waiting for his medicine. Another patient entered. Natalie glanced briefly at the man in blue, then focused on the newcomer.
“Hello. Where are you feeling unwell?”
“You must be Ms. Foster? I’m Lucy’s aunt. She sent me here.”
Natalie remembered–Lucy had mentioned a relative.
“Ah, of course. Please, sit.”
Marilyn settled into the chair, describing her symptoms.
Natalie checked her pulse, then said, “Not too serious. Acupuncture along the meridians will help. You’re not afraid of needles, are you?”
“Not at all. Do what you must–just cure me.”
Natalie patted her hand lightly. “Relax. It’s nothing major.”
“I’ve long heard from Lucy that your skills are extraordinary. Seeing you today–it’s true. You’re even more capable than the old practitioners twice your age.”
Natalie smiled faintly. “You flatter me. Healing is simply a doctor’s duty.”
“You’re not only skilled, you’re kind,” Marilyn said warmly.
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Natalie’s lips curved further.
From the side, Atlas chimed in, grinning. “Exactly. She’s good at everything. I wonder which lucky man gets to marry our Natalie.”
She shot him a sidelong look, smiling. “Don’t tease.”
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He only leaned closer, watching her as she wrote the prescription.
And in that moment, a shadowed gaze caught the scene.
When Marilyn left. Natalie turned—and met Jackson’s eyes.
He stood at the doorway, stepping forward slowly, each stride deliberate.
Natalie gave him a single glance, then drew her gaze away.
Chapter 70 Breaking Point
As Jackson strode inside, Atlas instinctively called from behind the counter. “Sir, are you here for a consultation?”
Jackson turned his head toward the voice.
Even with a mask, it was clear the young man was striking. Tall, clean–cut, about one meter eighty–five–he radiated energy that was hard to miss.
Atlas studied him as well. The black suit, the air of wealth and authority… unmistakably someone from a powerful family.
“Sir?” Atlas called again when Jackson didn’t answer.
But Jackson ignored him, closing the distance in a few long strides. He seized Natalie’s arm. “Such an important day for you, and you didn’t tell me?”
Natalie halted sharply.
She turned her head to look at him, her voice even. “And why should I? What does it have to do with you?”
“You used my money to open this clinic. Am I not allowed to ask?”
Her expression hardened instantly. She yanked her arm free. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? That money came from the guardian lions you bought. You chose to pay for them. Once it entered my pocket, it became mine.”
Jackson’s tone turned cold. “Then whose flowers are those out front? You don’t have many friends. Who would send so many baskets?”
Natalie’s patience snapped. “If you have this much time on your hands, go pick up your son. By now he should be out of school. Stop letting your mistress do it, or people will think I’m dead.”
Atlas’s eyes went wide.
In just a few sentences, he pieced together the situation. So this was Natalie’s husband. They had a child together. And he… had another woman outside.
For all her grace, her private life was tangled in a storm. A good woman–cursed with a bad
man.
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“Natalie, must you speak this way?”
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