Chapter 200 All Tied In
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It was Taylor who inspired her. Love and marriage didn’t have to be shackles for a woman. As long as you were clear on your ultimate goal, even marriage could become a powerful tool.
Yunice looked over at Wyatt again. “I’ll help smooth things over with Mr. Carl. If the deal goes through, you pay me what I’m worth–fair and square.”
“A transactional partnership?” Wyatt lifted a brow, lips quirking. “Sure.”
Money was always a good thing. Yunice needed to stockpile funds. Once the Saunders family began to falter, she could pounce–take back the old family estate and the Saunders Hospital in one move.
When they reached the car, Yunice didn’t get in. Wyatt got the message and called for a separate driver to take her home.
Nothing was explicitly said, but the two had already come to a mutual understanding- respecting each other’s space, giving full freedom as long as boundaries were honored.
It was exactly this kind of freedom that convinced Yunice to stay in the marriage.
More importantly, Carl might have been her father’s old friend, but he wasn’t just her Mr. Carl.
Sure, she could’ve begged him to help her dissolve the marriage. But if she could ask him, what was to stop Owen or Lily from doing the same? People were creatures of profit–and businessmen even more so. If she could tie Carl’s interests to her own, she’d gain a permanent advantage.
That would be far more effective than cashing in a one–time favor.
Yunice was starting to understand the sweetness of having someone powerful at her back. With that in mind, she no longer resisted her marriage to Wyatt.
While laying out her plans, Yunice messaged Wyatt. “Try to stop Mr. Carl from meeting with anyone from the Saunders family until your deal is done.”
Wyatt’s reply came quick. “Got it.”
Putting her phone away, Yunice switched vehicles.
The new car took a different route and brought her to the private residence of the Qiao family.
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As soon as she entered, she heard Quinton’s voice.
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“Honey, this is all your favorite food. I put it in the fridge. Even if I’m not here, just grab whatever you want if you’re hungry. I might have to leave for a while… so you’ll need to take care of yourself, okay?”
His voice rambled on, but no one replied. A flowing piano piece played softly in the background.
Quinton wiped his eyes with his knuckles as he turned, head bowed, expression heavy.
Just as Wyatt had said–Quinton was a widower.
He had lost his wife early in life and was left with only one son, who had autism.
Bobby was already 14 now, with delicate features and a lean jawline–he looked like a future celebrity. But his eyes never focused, and he never responded when spoken to. He remained trapped in his own world.
Some even called his condition “depression.”
The reason Quinton had once gone to such great lengths to get Yunice’s medical notes was to try and cure his son.
In fact, Yunice’s three–day disappearance last time had been because she was observing Bobby.
Seeing her arrive, Quinton looked up. Yunice immediately frowned.
“You’ve got a serious internal heat issue,” she said.
Quinton’s eyes were red, his chin was inflamed with breakouts, and the tip of his nose was unnaturally red and dry. Classic symptoms of heat excess.
But Quinton was already convinced he was dying of cancer.
Face ashen, he asked in despair, “Ms. Saunders, how much longer do I have?”
Yunice was speechless.
Quinton looked up at the ceiling, voice soft and mournful. “If I die, all this property will have no one to inherit. And Bobby…”
He choked, unable to continue.
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Bobby was worse off than a fool. A fool at least knew to eat when hungry, but Bobby had to be spoon–fed just to swallow anything. If Quinton died, Bobby probably wouldn’t last either.
Covering his face with both hands, Quinton rasped, “Ms. Saunders… before I go, could you please… euthanize Bobby for me? I can’t leave him here to suffer.”
“Mr. Quinton,” Yunice said dryly as she flipped through his recent meal plans, “if you wanted to die, I don’t think it’d be that easy.”
Quinton looked at her in shock. “You can cure cancer too?”
“Who said you had cancer?”
“Google. All my symptoms match.”
Yunice rolled her eyes. “Ever heard the saying. ‘No one walks out of Google alive?”
She set down his meal logs. “You’re just overheated. Think hard–have you eaten anything super tonifying lately?”
Quinton was still trying to remember, but Yunice had already spotted the answer, a teacup beside him, filled with some kind of herbal root steeping in water.
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