Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
Yunice flinched at his scolding, startled. For a second, she genuinely questioned whether this was the same man who had gently applied medicated oil to her bruises just days ago. The old woman looked as though she might stop breathing at any moment. Wyatt, unable to trust the maids, pulled out his phone and angrily called Mengchu, demanding he find the best specialist immediately.
Hanging up, he turned and tried to lift the old woman in his arms to take her to the hospital. It wasn’t until his knees nearly buckled that he remembered-he was crippled. Without his cane, he couldn’t move freely, let alone carry someone unconscious. His face was drained of color. He could almost hear the sound of his pride being crushed.
As the woman continued to convulse, Wyatt lowered his head, shame darkening his expression. He was useless. Completely useless. But just as he sank into that thought, someone suddenly shoved him aside. He had no support to brace himself, and the push sent him tumbling awkwardly onto the carpet. The two maids froze, staring at him in terrified silence.
Wyatt’s eyes widened, glaring furiously at the “little white rabbit” who had knocked him over. But Yunice wasn’t even looking at him. Her brows were furrowed in concentration. She quickly turned the elderly woman onto her side, swept her mouth for obstructions, and gently supported her chin so her neck could extend naturally.
The old lady kept convulsing. Foam and saliva spilled from her mouth. She looked moments away from death.
Yunice, calm and focused, said evenly, “She’s seizing. You cannot let her airway get blocked.” She glanced at Wyatt. “Letting her bite your arm like that is dangerous. She could easily choke on the secretions and suffocate. That could kill her in minutes.”
Wyatt’s anger began to fade as he listened. That meant she’d been seizing for at least eight minutes.
Yunice’s expression grew serious. “That explains it. Regular seizures last around five minutes. This was likely a febrile seizure triggered by a persistent high fever.”
Wyatt struggled to his feet, his voice strained with panic. “Is that all you know how to do-talk theory? Do something!”
“You can’t force a seizure to stop. You have to let it run its course,” Yunice replied. “And if it doesn’t stop-“
Before he could finish, the old woman suddenly fell still. But just seconds later, her hands shot up to clutch her throat. She gasped, mouth wide open, throat rattling with a choking sound like an old bellows-as though something invisible were trying to strangle her.
Wyatt and the two maids froze, completely overwhelmed. Only Yunice acted. She calmly pulled a long cotton swab from her shoulder bag, soaked it in aromatic oil, then bent down and guided it carefully down the old woman’s throat. She twisted it slightly. A harsh gurgle erupted from the woman’s chest. Yunice withdrew the swab just in time. With it came a glob of something wet and foul-splattering squarely onto her chest.
The two maids winced. It was phlegm. And they were clearly embarrassed on her behalf. Yunice didn’t flinch. She wiped it off with a tissue, examining the color and texture carefully before wrapping it and tossing it in the trash.
On the bed, the old woman finally began to breathe normally. Her expression relaxed, and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was Yunice. But she couldn’t stay awake for long. Her head tilted back, and she drifted off to sleep again.
Wyatt’s face was tight with concern. “What now?” he asked.
Yunice took out a small notebook and calmly wrote, “She’s tired. She’s just sleeping.” She was elderly, had seized for a long time, and had drained all her strength; sleep was the only thing her body had left.
Yunice tore a page from her notebook and handed it to a maid. “Please go to the pharmacy and get these medications.” One maid left to buy the medicine while the other fetched hot water, just as Yunice had instructed.
Once everything was settled, Yunice turned to Wyatt, who was still half-kneeling on the floor. She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Let me help you.”
Wyatt, ever prideful, didn’t want to show weakness in front of others. But after a few futile attempts to stand on his own, he had no choice but to reluctantly extend his hand to her. He was tall-nearly six-foot-three. At first, Yunice managed to pull his hand, but once he started rising, she had to brace herself against his chest like a human crutch, arms looped tightly to steady him.
Wyatt lowered his head slightly and found her tousled hair brushing his chin. The sensation stirred something strange in him. He glanced at her strained little face and quickly looked away. But even as he turned his gaze, he couldn’t escape the faint, clean scent coming from her.
Oblivious, Yunice shifted her position to help balance him. Wyatt managed to sit down against the bedside cabinet. Hot water arrived, and Yunice no longer paid Wyatt any mind. She wrung a towel and began carefully wiping down the old woman’s hands, feet, and body. Once the medicine arrived, she prepared an IV and hooked it up.
Watching the woman’s vitals gradually stabilize, Wyatt made another call to Mengchu and told him not to come-just to keep the specialists on standby. By the time things had calmed down, it was already 2 a.m. The woman was resting peacefully, her fever finally subsiding. The two maids were nodding off nearby, and Yunice, too, rubbed her sleepy eyes. Wyatt sat calmly at the woman’s bedside.
He wasn’t sleeping, so Yunice didn’t dare lie down either. She noticed the deep bite marks on his wrist and hesitated. “That wound needs to be disinfected. You should get a tetanus shot.” Human bites weren’t always minor-left untreated, they could turn fatal.
Wyatt glanced at her. He didn’t know how Yunice knew the old woman. Yunice, in turn, had no idea what Wyatt’s connection to the old woman was. Out of respect for the elder, both chose not to pry. Wyatt didn’t want to be scolded by the old lady, so he silently extended his arm, letting Yunice do as she pleased. The wound itself wasn’t hard to clean. The issue was the injection.
Yunice held the syringe and reminded him, “You’ll need to take off your jacket. I need your upper arm exposed.” Wyatt glanced at her. “Does it have to be the arm?” “Thigh works too,” Yunice replied. Wyatt was speechless. He unfastened one cuff with a single hand and rolled up his sleeve, shooting her another glance. “Is this good enough?” “Mm,” Yunice nodded and lowered her head to insert the needle.
To Wyatt, the pain was nothing less than a mosquito bite. What actually distracted him was a strange tickling sensation. Frowning slightly, he turned his head and saw her other hand brushing faintly across his deltoid as she pushed the medication. “What are you scratching at?” he asked flatly. To him, it felt borderline inappropriate-especially given the terrible first impression she’d left. Yunice realized he didn’t like it and calmly explained, “It’s a technique to redirect pain.” Still, she stopped.
Once the injection was done, Yunice stepped aside. Wyatt rolled down his sleeve, but even then, he couldn’t shake the odd sensation lingering on his skin-like he could still feel her fingers brushing his arm. With nothing else to do, Yunice didn’t dare sit on the bed beside Wyatt, so she settled cross-legged on the carpet. The room was warm enough that it didn’t feel cold. And there she stayed-until sunrise.
Wyatt was the first to notice the old woman stir. She smacked her lips, seemingly well-rested. Seeing Wyatt, she blinked and asked, “Wyatt, did Mandy come see me last night?” As she tried to sit up, Wyatt slipped a pillow behind her. “You were dreaming. Mandy wasn’t here.” The old woman didn’t believe it. Her eyes scanned the room-until they landed on Yunice, who was curled up on the floor. She squinted, clearly puzzled. “Who’s that girl?”
Wyatt answered casually, “She’s the doctor you called. She’s the one who saved your life last night.” The old woman shot him a suspicious look. “Don’t try to fool an old lady. Why would you bring some girl into my room?” A sharp gleam flickered in Wyatt’s eyes. He and the old woman turned in unison to stare at the sleeping Yunice. She wasn’t someone the old lady invited. And Wyatt certainly hadn’t brought her. So then, where had she come from?
The maid who had brought Yunice in last night looked stunned. “She knocked at the door in the middle of the night, saying she was here to treat Madam Johnson. I thought Mr. Wyatt had called her, so I let her in…” Only now did the maid realize she’d likely made a mistake. But if Yunice hadn’t been invited-how did she show up at just the right time to save the old woman?
As this question lingered, Yunice-nodding off-suddenly jerked forward and snapped awake. Groggy, she opened her eyes and instinctively reached for the notebook that had fallen at her feet. As she looked up, she realized several pairs of eyes were locked onto her. Like she was something foreign, something unwelcome.
Staring back at them, Yunice quietly picked up her notebook, got to her feet, and walked to the bedside with an obedient look on her face. “Madam, are you feeling any discomfort?”
Madam Johnson looked her up and down, her eyes narrowing. Yunice had the vague sense the old woman was sizing her up with something close to hostility.
Sure enough, Madam Johnson frowned. “Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. But you knew my father-Will. He treated you five years ago.”
The old woman remembered. Years ago, she’d suffered unbearable headaches, and no doctor could help. It had been Will who finally cured her.
“He passed away, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But before he died, he asked me to finish the treatments he couldn’t complete. A few days ago, I went through his notes again and realized your symptoms would be flaring up soon. That’s why I came last night.”
At her words, not only did Madam Johnson’s face stiffen-even the maids gave Yunice looks of blatant disbelief. That was a stretch. Her father had been dead five years-what, had he sent her a message from the afterlife? Plenty of people tried to cozy up to Madam Johnson. But none had ever come up with something this far-fetched.
Yunice remained composed. “Madam, if you recall, my father once said your condition couldn’t be cured in a single treatment. It would need to be reassessed in five years.”
Wyatt eyed Yunice, trying to assess whether she was putting on another act. After all-she did have a history.
Madam Johnson’s gaze wavered slightly. It was hard to remember exactly what Will had said back then. Once her symptoms were gone, who paid attention to follow-up warnings?
Wyatt, though, caught on to something. “So you’re saying this illness will come back?”
Yunice replied without hesitation. “It will. And it’ll be worse than before.”
Wyatt frowned, his expression turning grim. But Madam Johnson waved her hand, clearly impatient. “Yuna, pay Ms. Sauriders for her visit. Let her go home and rest.” Her face was cold. It was obvious she didn’t like Yunice.
“Madam,” Yunice tried to reason with her. “I’m not exaggerating. Your condition hasn’t been fully resolved-“
At this point, Yunice could no longer insist on staying. She simply nodded and followed the maid-Yuna-out.
As they walked, Yunice asked softly, “Miss, if you don’t mind me asking… What did I do to offend the Madam?”
She remembered visiting this house as a child with her father. Madam Johnson had been so kind to her then-she’d even given her a small gift. Why the sudden change?
Yuna had no real answer. “I don’t know either. Madam’s usually in a great mood. Maybe you were just unlucky today.”
As she stepped out of the Johnson residence, Yunice paused and added, “Here’s my contact info. If there’s any need, feel free to reach out.”
Even though Madam Johnson had clearly disliked her, Yuna had seen Yunice work through a terrifying night and felt a certain admiration. She accepted the note. But when she glanced at it, she looked puzzled. Most people gave a phone number-but Yunice had written an email address.
Yunice didn’t head straight home. Instead, she walked slowly along the street, still troubled. Why had Madam Johnson reacted so harshly to her? Could it be because she had rejected the arranged marriage with the Johnson family’s grandson? Was the Madam simply taking offense on his behalf?
But according to what she’d heard, Madam Johnson didn’t get along with her son’s family at all. Even last night, when the woman was deathly ill, not a single member of the Johnsons had shown up. Wyatt had been the only one who truly cared. So what was Wyatt’s connection to Madam Johnson?
Yunice was still deep in thought when a startled voice called out nearby-“Hey, watch out!” Someone bumped into her. Her grip loosened, and her bag tumbled to the ground.
“Yunice?” Owen looked at her in surprise, then quickly reached out to steady a middle-aged man. “Mr. Ford, are you alright?”
Quinton Ford waved a hand, indicating he was fine, but then turned toward Yunice, eyeing her closely. “What did you just call her, Mr. Saunders?”
From behind Quinton, Elsie stepped forward quickly, casting a nervous glance at Yunice. She’d been using Yunice’s name in public. And now Owen had slipped up. Quinton Ford was a major pharmaceutical tycoon, someone Elsie had long hoped to collaborate with. The last thing she needed was for her identity swap to be exposed. “Mr. Ford, my brother was calling me,” she interjected quickly.
Owen jumped in. “That’s right.”
Quinton looked between the two; something about their story clearly seemed off. He didn’t press the issue, but instead bent down and picked up the canvas bag Yunice had dropped. As he did, an old notebook fell out, flipping open on the pavement. His eyes narrowed at the sight of its pages. He leaned down to take a closer look, but a pale, delicate hand quickly snatched both the notebook and the bag from his grasp.
Quinton looked up to see Yunice, tense and on guard. “You…” Owen started, but caught himself. Nearly slipped again. He quickly changed his tone. “Do you have any manners?” He turned to Quinton and offered an apologetic smile. “Mr. Ford, she’s just a distant cousin. A little… unstable. Please don’t take it personally.”
And just to be sure Yunice didn’t say anything more, Owen pinched the inside of her arm behind his back, a subtle but sharp warning. The sudden sting made Yunice’s eyes well with tears, but she stayed quiet, refusing to react.