A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 113

Declan kept his eyes squeezed shut, lying there like a corpse. "Go ahead."

Winifred hooked her finger under the silk waistband and pulled it down.

"Baseline measurement, approximately three inches," Winifred noted aloud as she jotted it down on her chart.

"Now, moving on to examine form during normal function."

Declan remained motionless, eyes still tightly shut. He looked as though he were bracing himself for some horrific torture, a man with a graveyard in his heart, perfectly matched to his broken, desolate soul. You couldn't force a deeply pessimistic, world-weary man to actively cooperate.

Winifred had to take matters into her own hands.

"Mr. Sutton, do you want to handle this yourself, or should I?"

Declan looked like a man being marched to the guillotine. "You do it," he muttered lazily.

Winifred decided to use acupuncture to mitigate the patient's anxiety.

"Please keep your eyes closed," she instructed.

"Why? Are you feeling shy?" Declan taunted.

"No. I am a medical professional."

"Oh. I thought maybe you were embarrassed to get your hands dirty."

Winifred retrieved her sterilized needles. "From the sound of it, you've changed your mind. Want to do it yourself?"

"Whatever."

"Then give me your hand."

Declan languidly draped his left hand over. Winifred took his pulse.

"Now give me your right hand."

"You're quite demanding, aren't you? One hand isn't enough for you?" he grumbled, practically tossing his right hand at her. It smacked against her arm.

She caught it, checked his pulse, and finalized her assessment of his internal energy to determine the exact acupressure points.

"Alright, I'm starting. Take a deep breath and relax."

"Why the warning? Do I look scared to you?"

"Of course not. You're very tough."

With lightning speed, Winifred aimed at his thigh and expertly flicked five thin acupuncture needles, sinking them diagonally under his skin.

She was dying to know if Winifred had been seething with jealousy having to examine another man right under Holden's nose. Even though she knew Holden despised Winifred and was entirely devoted to her, Iris still thrived on seeing Winifred suffer.

In fact, it was a fascinating realization—causing Winifred pain brought Iris an intoxicating high. Seeing her cornered, humiliated, and broken gave Iris an absolute rush.

Nelly handed the chart to Iris. "Everything is wonderful. See for yourself."

Iris caught a glimpse of the generous measurements and quickly looked away, pretending to be flustered. That was definitely a massive blow to Winifred. Examining another man while Holden stood guard? It must have felt like knives in Winifred's chest.

"If everything is settled, Mrs. Sutton, could Dr. Shultz take a look at my foot now?" Iris asked sweetly.

"Oh!" Nelly exclaimed, suddenly remembering. She pulled Iris into an affectionate hug. "My poor darling, making you wait in pain! Declan's sudden issue took the doctor away and delayed your treatment."

Iris leaned into the embrace, the picture of angelic understanding. "It's okay. Your peace of mind is more important than anything else."

Winifred waited until Declan was fully dressed before escorting him out. From down the hall, Nelly pointed a finger at her, issuing her next command.

"Iris injured her foot. Go take a look at it."

Since she was on the payroll, Winifred had no grounds to refuse. Carrying her medical kit in one hand and supporting the limping, groaning Declan with the other, she gave a curt nod. "Understood."

Declan, however, was in no rush to leave. He hobbled over to a plush sofa in the hallway and threw himself onto it.