The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 7

“Patricia is safe now.”

“She…” Dorothy just stood there, completely stunned. How did she know how to do any of this? Did she really save Patricia?

The lead doctor, still processing what just happened, stared at Charlotte with a look of disbelief. “Did you study medicine?”

Charlotte’s eyes were cool and clear beneath her long lashes. “I picked up a bit from a quack.”

A bit? Who on earth teaches skills like this? That was a micro-guidewire vascular procedure. None of them even dared try it themselves. The doctors all dropped their heads, embarrassed.

Charlotte glanced around the room, her gaze finally settling on Dorothy.

Dorothy held her breath, cheeks burning red as she quickly looked away. She couldn’t forget what she’d just said—if this fraud saves Patricia, I’ll let her kick my head.

Charlotte pressed her lips together and turned, meeting Anthony’s dark, unreadable eyes. For a second, she seemed caught off guard, then blinked and slid right back into her usual cool distance.

“The clot’s gone. Her condition’s stable for now. Heart disease is tricky though, so keep an eye on her.”

“Alright. About that reward I promised you…” Anthony waved Hans over, who immediately handed her a check for ten million.

Did he really think she was some miracle doctor?

Charlotte didn’t even glance at the check. Her eyes stayed on Anthony’s face. “Like I said, I’m not a miracle healer. You’ve got the wrong person.”

A few loose strands of hair slipped across her face, shadowing her calm, indifferent eyes. She couldn’t care less about the money.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, looking a little surprised. After a pause, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

“If you’re not a miracle healer, how did you know what to do?”

“I learned from the village doctor. Saw something similar once and just copied it.”

Copied it? Her steady hands and confident moves told a different story.

With that, she followed the butler out.

Uncle?

Hans, standing nearby, nearly lost it. His eyes went wide, his poker face threatening to crack. Anthony was twenty-eight, in his prime, and chased by every woman in Cabinda.

And this girl just called him uncle.

If anyone heard about this, he’d be the butt of every joke.

“Do I really look that old?”

Anthony shot Hans a cold look, his handsome face suddenly frosty, his eyes unreadable.

Hans shook his head so fast it was almost comical. “No way, Anthony. You don’t look old at all. She’s just a kid. Didn’t mean anything by it.”