Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
“Miss, your soup-” Gill called out, worried.
But Yunice had already stepped into the elevator. “I’ll drink it when I get back!”
She jabbed the elevator button, then turned to Wyatt, her eyes urging him to hurry up. He stepped in with his cane. Standing close, all he had to do was lower his eyes to see the top of her soft, tousled head.
Yunice confirmed her guess. “Madam Johnson’s having another episode!”
Wyatt looked slightly surprised. How the hell did she know?
Yunice continued, “I told you her condition wasn’t fully treated. If a normal hospital could help, she wouldn’t have gone looking for my father back then.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes. “If your dad couldn’t fix it, you think you can?”
Yunice nodded without hesitation. “I can.” Her certainty was absolute. Just then, the elevator doors opened. Before Wyatt could say anything more, she stepped into his car.
The heater was blasting. As soon as she got in, her head buzzed from the heat, but she didn’t stop to complain. She immediately started sorting through her bag, double-checking that she had everything she needed.
Wyatt didn’t interrupt her. Instead, he tore a piece of paper from his notepad, scribbled a few lines, and folded it up. The car stopped at a private hospital. Because of his leg, Wyatt stayed behind while Yunice headed in alone. “Go on ahead. If anyone stops you, give them this,” he said, handing her the note.
She nodded and took off in the direction of the patient rooms listed.
Watching her go, Jordan got out and chuckled. “She moves fast.”
She really was the capable type-sharp, efficient, focused.
Wyatt said lazily, “Too picky, though.”
Jordan teased, “Talented people are hard to manage. Obedient ones aren’t useful. If you can’t keep her, she’ll just end up in someone else’s hands.”
Send Gifts
Vyatt’s eyes darkened, his expression sour. Unice rushed out of the elevator, focused only on checking the room number. She didn’t even notice Paul walking toward her.
“Yunice? What are you doing here?” Paul followed her gaze and asked, “Who’s sick?”
She glanced at him, but she was in too much of a hurry to answer. She shoved past him and made her way toward a hallway guarded by a bodyguard. The guard raised his arm to block her like a brute. Yunice quickly unfolded the letter of introduction Wyatt had given her and said anxiously, “I have a letter! Wyatt sent me!”
Her voice trembled-she clearly wasn’t confident. It was just a piece of paper; would they really let her through?
To her surprise, the guard scanned the paper, then stepped aside without hesitation. “Go in.”
She rushed inside. Paul, watching, tried to follow, but two guards immediately locked him out like a pair of airtight doors. He protested. “Why can she go in and I can’t!”
The guard shot back, “She has a letter from Wyatt. Do you?”
Yunice hadn’t expected to get in so easily. As she ran, she peeked curiously at the note Wyatt had given her, thinking it might have some kind of symbol or details about her identity. But there were only four simple words: “Let her through.”
It hit her like a shockwave-celebrity power, made real. A true power player didn’t need fancy tricks. His name alone was a pass. She had never experienced this kind of treatment before, not even as Paul’s companion-even though the Powell family was top-tier elite.
Suppressing the spark of awe in her chest, Yunice stepped into Madam Johnson’s room. The room was full of medical staff, and the moment they saw her, their eyes made it clear she wasn’t welcome. So she flashed the letter again, this time with confidence. “Wyatt sent me!”
Outside the room, Paul was still arguing with the guards. “What, Wyatt’s such a big deal? He still answers to the Powell family! I’m the rightful eldest grandson of the Powell family. I’m not some mutt off the street. Believe it or not, I could have you kicked out of Silverburgh with a single word!”
Just then, Jordan and Wyatt turned the corner. Paul scowled when he saw Wyatt. He stormed up to him, shouting, “I warned you to leave her alone! So there’s no point in chasing her!”
Before he could get too close, Jordan stepped in and restrained him. “Stay away from Yunice! I don’t even like…”
Paul fought back, yelling, “Jordan, you too? Giving up your status to be this cripple’s lapdog? You’ve gotta be cursed!”
Jordan’s jaw clenched, his usually calm voice sharp. “Sh…”
He grabbed Jordan’s collar and glared at Wyatt like he wanted to burn him alive. To Paul, Wyatt was nothing but a thief who had wormed his way into the Powell family, stealing resources, buying off his old friend, blocking him at every turn-and now, trying to steal Yunice.
“You think Yunice would stay by your side if she knew all the crap you’ve done?” he spat.
Wyatt’s eyes went cold, silently warning him. But Paul was on a roll. “What, you gonna hit me? Can you even stand on your own? Without these dogs protecting you, you’d be crawling on the floor.”
Jordan yanked him harder. “You really looking to die?”
Paul sneered. “Touch me and see if my grandfather doesn’t have you whipped right out of-“
Wyatt’s anger faded into a quiet chill. Without acknowledging Paul, he bypassed the guards and entered Madam Johnson’s room.
Paul brushed off Jordan’s grip, eyes burning. This wasn’t over. He couldn’t touch Wyatt, but Yunice? She was still within reach. If Wyatt thought he could take what was his…
Inside the hospital room, Yunice stood at the bedside, inserting silver needles into Madam Johnson’s scalp. The other doctors and nurses had backed far away. They stood by the door, arms crossed, faces twisted with disapproval. “Shouldn’t we step in?” one of them asked. “It is Madam Johnson, after all.”
If they failed to save her, they’d be held responsible. The neurology director scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s ‘#jatt’s’ miracle doctor. If we interfere and something goes wrong, who’s taking the blame? Be my guest.”
That shut everyone up. Yunice was far too young, and she was using one of the hardest techniques in traditional Chinese medicine. Most practitioners spend their lives learning only the basics. And yet, here she was, performing acupuncture on someone’s brain.
But it was Madam Johnson, and no one wanted to risk being blamed. Finally, the director couldn’t take it anymore. His voice turned cold. “Miss, we know you’re trying to impress Wyatt, but you’d better consider what it’ll cost you to act tough.”
A nurse spoke up in panic. “Exactly! Madam Johnson means a lot to Wyatt. If anything happens to her, he’ll make you pay with your life!”
Yunice didn’t even turn her head. Her voice was calm and steady. “I know.” As she spoke, she placed another needle at the Shenting point on Madam Johnson’s scalp. The director of neurology watched with growing anxiety, fists clenched in fury. “You’re playing with her life! If she dies from your random poking, we won’t be able to save her even if we try!”
“Enough of this nonsense. Someone get her away from the patient and prep for a craniotomy immediately!” He’d had enough. With one sharp command, his assistants stepped forward to take action.
Yunice shot them a cold glare and snapped, “If anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility. Can you say the same!” That single sentence made everyone freeze in hesitation.
Madam Johnson was already elderly. The risks of surgery were exponentially higher-especially brain surgery. One slip and she could end up in a coma, or worse, die on the table. That was precisely why Wyatt hadn’t wanted to take the risk-why he had switched medical teams at the last minute. They had expected someone more professional, more authoritative, not some arrogant little girl!
The director flung his hands in the air, furious. Fine, let’s see how this reckless kid plans to pay with her life. But the moment he turned around, he froze. Wyatt was standing at the doorway, cane in hand. Who knew how long he had been there?
Realizing that Wyatt must have heard Yunice’s bold words yet hadn’t stepped in to stop her filled the director with frustration. If she failed, wouldn’t it be their mess to clean up? Wyatt must be out of his mind, getting played by a woman like this.
A crowd had gathered at the door, including Wyatt himself, all silently watching Yunice work. Yunice was still applying acupuncture. She’d gone from standing to sitting at Madam Johnson’s bedside. Her demeanor was calm, almost serene-less like someone trying to save a life and more like someone performing a wellness treatment.
The silver needles remained in place. Each time Yunice twisted or nudged one, Madam Johnson would twitch, her fingers sometimes curling into claw-like shapes. Every movement made the onlookers tense, terrified that the next twitch might be her last breath. But Yunice didn’t seem fazed. She even began massaging the elderly woman’s head and shoulders.
The director couldn’t take it anymore. Even with Wyatt watching, he exploded, “Her problem is in the cerebral blood vessels! It’s a blood clot, a cerebral infarction! What the hell are you doing!”
“Wyatt, if you let this continue, you’ll be killing her! Is that what you want!” Wyatt’s brow furrowed, fingers unconsciously tightening around his cane. Of course, he didn’t want Madam Johnson to die-but somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Yunice could do it. This wasn’t just Yunice’s gamble-it was his too.
(The following section appears to be incomplete and contains numerous errors, making a coherent correction impossible without substantial rewriting. The original text is preserved below for reference.)
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SendGifts
The director nodded repeatedly. “You’re absolutely right. These days, everyone worships Western medicine-cut first, think later. But for someone Madam Johnson’s age, that’s basically dragging her to the gates of hell. I always wanted to study traditional medicine, but I never found the right teacher.”
He hesitated, then steeled himself and asked awkwardly, “Miss, could you teach me a few techniques?” Worried she’d refuse, he quickly added, “I don’t expect it for free. I’ll serve tea and formally become your student if I have…”
Yunice stared at the older man-someone old enough to be her father-and blinked, caught completely off guard. Before she could figure out how to respond, Wyatt had already taken her hand and said to the director, “Just focus on doing your own job.”
The director looked longingly at Yunice, but under Wyatt’s warning gaze, he could only grumble and go back to monitoring Madam Johnson. Wyatt moved forward with his cane. Yunice looked down at their joined hands. Remembering the way he’d once spoken about her, she felt a wave of discomfort and tried to pull away.
Sensing her reaction, Wyatt only tightened his grip. His steps paused as he looked down at her and said, “In Silverburgh, you won’t find a better ally than me.”
Yunice was just about to argue when she caught sight of someone standing at the end of the hallway-Paul. His eyes zeroed in on their clasped hands, and his face twisted with anger as he stormed toward them. Yunice suddenly understood Wyatt was holding her hand to provoke Paul.