Chapter 11: The Headstrong Beauty

Words : 1735 Updated : Sep 25th, 2025

The last to get out of the Porsche was a girl with a spill of sleek black hair. Long bangs feathered across her forehead in the breeze. Nude stockings set off a pair of spotless white shoes. Her skin was luminous, her lips cherry-red, her teeth bright as porcelain. Every lift of a brow, every faint smile, carried an ethereal grace, as if she'd stepped out of a dream. Leonard Zimmerman stared, stunned. A girl like this existed in the world? She looked like a fairy sent to earth, too otherworldly for ordinary life. Once she got out of the car, the two tall women flanking the old man shifted aside. The girl looped her arm through his, her wide eyes sweeping the surroundings, curious and wary. "Grandpa, why bring me to a place like this?" she asked, a small frown puckering her brow. Clearly, she wanted no part of it. There were no high-rises here, no smooth asphalt. The rutted dirt road on the way in had almost rattled her senseless. What a dump. "Lauryn, let's go inside. The one who can cure you is right here," the old man said, patting her hand with a genial smile. Trailing the Porsche came a neat row of Mercedes-Benz sedans. A clutch of men in sharp suits emerged, each wearing sunglasses. Their left hands hung loose near their pockets, their right hands stayed tucked inside their jackets, and their heads kept pivoting, scanning the area. Good grief. This was a big shot. There were enough bodyguards to populate a small platoon. Leonard had been ready to shoo them out, but he swallowed hard. People like this were trouble. Best to pretend he had not seen a thing. "You all wait outside," the old man told the men before stepping through the door. "Be respectful. Folks here are simple and honest-you'll be fine." Lauryn, still holding his arm, went into the clinic. The two statuesque women followed them in. In the lobby, the old man looked around. His smile faltered for a moment. Leonard moved forward and asked gently, "Sir, are you here to see the doctor?" Lauryn shot him a glare. "My grandpa is fit as a fiddle. There's nothing wrong with him. Are you blind?" Could this guy not read a room? Her grandpa was clearly robust. "Grandpa, go back already. I can handle it here," Lauryn went on. "He's the one who's nuts." Her illness was private. She would not make a spectacle of herself in public. "All right. You're old enough," the old man said. "Here's a thousand as a deposit. If she's cured, I'll make it worth your while." He handed the money to Leonard, then turned and left as if wholly at ease, the motorcade peeling away with him. Lauryn prowled the room for a moment, then asked, "Are you Augustus Zimmerman?" "No. Augustus is my father," Leonard said. Up close, her beauty dazzled, but she carried herself like she was above everyone, looking down her nose at people. "Oh. So your father is dead?" Lauryn asked, blunt as a hammer. Leonard rolled his eyes. Rude as hell. If she hadn't been so pretty, he would have booted her out already. "Sorry to disappoint. My father went abroad on a trip," he said evenly. "No telling when he'll be back. I'm running things here now." Even as a child, Leonard had been drawn to the work of saving lives and easing suffering, shaped by his father's example. After college, he studied medicine and returned to this small village, determined to continue what his father had left unfinished. "I see. Can you cure me?" Lauryn asked, pride still in her voice. "That depends on whether you let me take a look," Leonard said with a small smile. "Fine. Where are we doing this?" Lauryn glanced around. The lobby was crowded with villagers. There's no way a rich girl like her was getting examined in front of a crowd. "Come with me. Let's go to the treatment room," Leonard said. He led her in, had her lie on the bed, tugged on a pair of white gloves, and began to prepare. She cooperated, yet watched him from the corner of her eye. Years ago, because of a hereditary illness in her family, the Tibbert family had arranged a childhood betrothal with Augustus Zimmerman. Leonard, by that logic, was her fiancé in name, though the Tibbert family preferred to deny it now. The old man trusted the Zimmerman family's character, which was why he dared leave Lauryn here alone. There was calculation behind the trust as well. If Lauryn suffered any unfair treatment, they could righteously break off the engagement. If she was treated well and cured, they could simply renege on the old promise and claim it no longer counted. Either way, they would not lose. Leonard had no idea of the tangle that bound them. As usual, he started by taking her pulse at the wrist. He frowned, then set his hand lightly on her chest. Lauryn smacked it away at once. "Pervert, what do you think you're doing?" she snapped. A consultation was one thing, groping her chest was another. He was clearly taking advantage under the pretense of treatment. "There's a problem with your heart; I need to listen carefully," Leonard said with a calm smile. His fingers had grazed her soft chest a moment before. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Early twenties-right in her prime. "You…" Lauryn bit off the rest. He was right; she did have a heart problem. More precisely, a cardiovascular condition so rare that big hospitals still threw up their hands. "If you want to be treated, you need to follow the doctor's orders," Leonard said. He leaned in, palms braced on the mattress. "The moment you arrived, you asked for my father. That suggests he cured members of your family before." The hostility slipped from Lauryn's gaze, replaced by doubt and a flicker of hope. He had hit every point. Her father and grandfather had both been cured by Augustus Zimmerman, and neither had relapsed. The major hospitals had been helpless with this rare disease. That was why her grandfather had come all the way from Zantos to this godforsaken backwater to find Augustus, only to discover he was away. "Then my condition… is there still hope?" she asked carefully. When it flared, the pain felt worse than death. "I can't promise anything, but we can try," Leonard said, looking her over with a clinician's eye. Any treatment carried risk; no one should speak as if the outcome were guaranteed. "So I'm your lab rat?" Lauryn flared up at once. "'We can try'? That's your answer?" "Look, I can't tell you more unless you let me examine you," Leonard spread his hands, his smile mild and harmless. No exam, no cure. Was she joking? "That… fine. But don't you dare cross the line, or you'll regret it," Lauryn said, bristling like a small tiger. This time, Leonard kept his hands to himself. He lowered his head and pressed his ear to her chest. Lauryn's lip curled in distaste, but she held her tongue. Her fingers clenched the white sheet, every muscle strung tight.

Chapter 11: The Headstrong Beauty

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