Chapter 4

The next day, my assistant told me Patterson had reapplied for a consultation appointment with me.

While helping me organize files, my assistant complained.

"Dr. Holmes, does this Patterson woman have some kind of problem?"

"Two days ago she acted like she didn't trust you, and today she's eagerly coming back."

"I think she just saw you're the Johnson family heir and wants to curry favor with you!"

I just smiled and said nothing.

I signed my name on the appointment application.

I wanted to see what game she was playing now.

At three in the afternoon, the Williams family arrived at my examination room with Wilson right on time.

After twenty years, Wilson still looked as frail as he had in my past life.

Patterson's attitude was a hundred times better than last time.

"Dr. Holmes, I was too impulsive last time. I'm sorry."

Wilson's parents stood awkwardly to the side, looking at me with complicated expressions.

I didn't bother with them, my gaze falling directly on Wilson.

"The patient stays. Family members, please wait outside."

The examination room door closed, blocking the view from outside.

Only Wilson and I remained in the room.

The frailty on his face instantly vanished without a trace.

In its place was undisguised jealousy and malice.

He looked me up and down, a mocking smile on his lips.

"Howard—no, I should call you Holmes Johnson."

"Never expected this. You really do have nine lives."

"Kicked out by our family, yet you still managed to latch onto the Johnson family. What skills you have."

I looked at him calmly, like watching a clown.

"Start the examination. Take off your shirt."

My indifference seemed to infuriate him.

While slowly unbuttoning his shirt, he continued to provoke me with his sharp, venomous tone.

"What? Think being a doctor makes you so great? Aren't you still here to examine me?"

"Let me tell you, so what if you're the Johnson family heir now?"

"In Patterson's heart, you'll never measure up to one of my fingers!"

In my past life, he had been exactly like this—one face in public, another in private.

In front of Patterson and the Williams parents, he was always the kind, sensible good younger brother.

In private, he used the most vicious language to humiliate and trample me.

He deliberately broke Mother's favorite vase, then cried and said I had pushed him into it.

He secretly tore up Father's most important documents, then framed me for it.

And I couldn't defend myself.

Every time, all I received was deeper disgust from Patterson and harsher punishment from my parents.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Living a second life, I had long since stopped caring about these ridiculous tricks.

I gave him a thorough series of examinations—auscultation, palpation—every step meticulous.

I suppressed my rising anger and glared fiercely at Wilson.

He was startled by my expression and immediately became defensive.

After completing all the examinations, I had him get dressed.

With a dark expression, I walked out of the examination room without a word.

Outside, the Williams family and Patterson were waiting anxiously.

Seeing me emerge, Patterson was the first to rush over.

"Dr. Holmes, Wilson... how is he?"

Wilson's mother, Brodie, even grabbed my arm, her eyes reddening.

"Doctor, my son's illness—is there any hope?"

I looked impatient and said directly to Patterson in front of everyone:

"Your fiancé's illness is beyond what our hospital can treat!"

The moment those words left my mouth, everyone's breathing hitched.

My assistant looked at me in disbelief. She had never seen me so decisively make such a pronouncement about any patient.

This was completely unlike my usual way of doing things.

Wilson's father Yale and Brodie's faces instantly lost all color.

Brodie's legs went weak and she nearly collapsed to the floor.

"How can this be? How can it be untreatable? If even you can't treat it, then Wilson..."

Patterson's face instantly filled with mockery.

"Impossible! You're the top expert. How could you not be able to treat it!"

"You're settling personal scores!" she shouted.

Just then, Wilson also emerged from the examination room.

Hearing my words, a flash of triumph crossed his eyes before he squeezed out a few tears.

"Patterson, forget it. I knew my illness couldn't be cured. I don't blame Dr. Holmes..."

I looked coldly at their family and dropped the other half of my statement.

"Because Wilson—he's not sick at all!"