Chapter 7

Yvaine's words dripped with passive-aggressive insinuation, not only implying Florence was morally loose and shameful but also driving a wedge between her and Percival.

Sure enough, Percival's already stern expression darkened instantly, a thick layer of frost settling over it.

He stared coldly at Florence, his tone laced with condescending warning. "Florence, you're following me? Haven't you had enough?"

Percival's brow furrowed, his gaze filled with disgust. "I'm warning you—stop these embarrassing stunts immediately. You might have no shame, but the Churchill family does. Since we haven't finalized the divorce yet, rein yourself in. Stop making a spectacle of yourself and dragging the Churchill name through the mud!"

Hearing his righteous accusations, Florence suddenly found it amusing.

And she actually laughed.

Florence let out a light laugh—crisp and melodious, yet laced with undisguised mockery and contempt.

She calmly smoothed the cuffs of her trench coat, then lifted her cool gaze to meet Percival's directly.

"Following you?" Florence's red lips parted slightly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Mr. Churchill thinks far too highly of himself. Does Silverline Hospital belong to you? You're allowed to come, but I'm not?"

Percival's irritation flared at her nonchalant attitude. "You—"

"As for making a spectacle..." Florence cut him off without mercy, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe before lingering meaningfully at his waist and abdomen. "I stated objective facts to the media. How is that shameful?"

Percival's face turned ashen, veins bulging faintly at his temple.

Florence had no intention of letting him off. She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice so only the three of them could hear, her tone laced with a half-smile. "Mr. Churchill, if you're sick, you need treatment. Don't let pride get in the way. A man with... bedroom issues who drags it out? He'll end up completely ruined. And then you won't even have your last shred of value left."

"Florence! You're asking for it!" Percival clenched his fists, fury nearly consuming his rationality. He took a forceful step forward, radiating oppressive menace.

Florence stood her ground. Not even her eyelashes fluttered.

She cast a contemptuous glance at Percival, then shifted her gaze to Yvaine, whose expression had turned strange.

"However, Ms. Stewart truly opened my eyes." Florence's lips curved into a wicked smile, her gaze flicking between Yvaine and Percival as she drawled sarcastically, "Even this flashy but useless defective product—Ms. Stewart treats him like a priceless treasure, protecting and clinging to him day in and day out. Ms. Stewart really isn't picky at all. She'll swallow anything—no matter how unappetizing."

"You... what are you saying?" Yvaine trembled with rage, her eyes instantly reddening. "Percival, look at her..."

"Florence, you're completely unreasonable!" Percival snapped, fully enraged. He reached out to grab Florence's wrist.

At that moment, the heavy glass door of the laboratory was shoved open from inside.

"What's all this noise? This is a hospital, not a marketplace!"

Flynn emerged from the lab with a stern face, his sharp gaze sweeping over Percival and Yvaine before landing on Florence. His expression instantly softened. "Florence, what happened?"

Percival's hand froze mid-air.

He recognized the vigorous elderly man before him—the renowned medical authority both domestically and internationally, Professor Flynn Coleman.

The very person he'd cleared his entire schedule to accompany Yvaine to see today.

Percival took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the surging fury within him. He withdrew his hand and adopted a polite, detached demeanor.

"Professor Coleman, hello. I'm Percival from the Churchill Group." Percival nodded slightly, his attitude respectful. "I apologize for the intrusion today. I came hoping you could examine Yvaine's condition. Her health has always been fragile, and recently she's developed some rare complications. I've heard you're an authority in this area, so I came specifically to seek your consultation."

Yvaine quickly wiped away her tearful expression and bowed obediently toward Flynn. "Professor Coleman, I'm in your hands."

Flynn clasped his hands behind his back, coolly glancing at Yvaine before casting a meaningful look at Florence. Understanding dawned instantly.

"I've already reviewed Ms. Stewart's medical records." Flynn's tone was cold, his refusal blunt. "However, I'm no longer the foremost authority in this area."

Percival froze, urgently pressing, "Then who is? No matter the cost, I hope to consult this expert."

A barely perceptible glint of mischief flashed in Flynn's eyes. He cleared his throat, speaking with complete seriousness. "She's a colleague of mine. In the field, she's known as Dr. Healer. She possesses the most advanced targeted treatment protocols currently available internationally. Ms. Stewart's condition—only she can treat it."

"Dr. Healer?" Percival's brow furrowed. He commanded influence in the business world but had never heard of such a figure in medicine.

"This miracle doctor has an eccentric temperament and an unpredictable schedule. She never sees outside clients." Flynn said, pulling out his phone and opening a Facebook QR code, holding it before Percival. "This is her work Facebook. I'm sharing it with you. Whether she's willing to take on this case or accept your friend request—that's up to your luck."

Though skeptical, Percival immediately pulled out his phone for Yvaine's sake and scanned the code.

[User: "Healer"]. The profile picture was pure white, with no additional information.

Percival clicked [Add to Contacts] and entered the note: "Churchill Group, Percival, seeking medical consultation."

"Sent successfully."

Almost the exact second the "sent successfully" message appeared on Percival's screen—

Florence's phone in her trench coat pocket vibrated twice.

Under Percival and Yvaine's puzzled gazes, Florence calmly pulled out her phone.

The screen lit up. A brand-new Facebook friend request popped up prominently.

[Churchill Group, Percival, seeking medical consultation.]

Florence stared at the line of text, then lifted her gaze to glance at Percival standing a few steps away, intently watching his phone screen, waiting for approval. The mockery in her eyes nearly overflowed.

Her slender fingertip tapped lightly on the screen.

Without hesitation, she pressed [Decline].