Chapter 8

Watching the Iris Nightshade juices seep into the ground, Emory just shook his head and sighed, saying nothing.

It was Cora, sitting in her wheelchair, who spoke up for him. "Aunt Hilda, even if you don't believe Emory, you didn't have to smash the glass like that…"

"That's enough, Cora. Shut your mouth," Hilda cut her off coldly. "Look at you—you're crippled yourself, and you're still defending this con man?"

She turned her glare toward Helen next. "Helen! Can't you keep your son-in-law in check? Why are you letting him cause a scene in the hospital?"

"Emory!" Helen exploded, her voice sharp and angry. "If you say one more word, get out of my house!"

She couldn't vent her frustration on the Madison family, so she poured it all onto Emory.

Inside, though, she was burning with resentment. How did her daughter end up marrying such a loud-mouthed hillbilly?

"Mom, stop yelling at Emory. He meant well." Cora spoke up, going against her mother.

"Well? Ha! I think he's up to no good," Helen scoffed. "And you, Cora, what the hell did Emory feed you to get you on his side like this? Why can't you be more like Scarlet? Even she knows better than to marry some backwoods nobody. But you…"

She trailed off when she noticed her daughter's eyes were red.

"Mom, what's wrong with Emory being from the mountains?" Cora asked, voice trembling. "Why do you always have to look down on the poor and worship the rich? I'm not some golden girl—you think I could've married someone amazing? I never hoped for some perfect man. Emory is good. He never once looked down on me for being disabled. Why can't you try being a little more accepting of him?"

She paused for a beat, then added firmly, "I don't regret marrying Emory. Not. One. Bit."

"You—!"

Helen raised her hand to slap her daughter, but several Madison family members quickly stepped in.

"That's enough, Helen," one of them said. "She married him—that's her business. Cora's fine with it, why are you losing your mind?"

"Exactly. A duck can never live the life of a swan—not every woman can be Scarlet."

"I get it, you wanted a rich son-in-law. But the real question is… did Cora ever have those qualifications?"

Their remarks, one after another, left Helen burning with shame. She wanted to vanish into the floor.

And just then—

Scarlet strolled over and added casually, "Aunt Helen, it's already hard enough for Cora to get married. You really shouldn't ask for more. I mean, these days, it's not easy for someone disabled to find a partner. Sure, Emory's always talking big, going on about his medical skills… but hey, at least he can shoot arrows, right?"

"And what the hell good is that?!" Helen snapped, shaking with rage. "Is archery going to put food on the table?"

"Why not?" Hilda sneered. "He can go shoot wild chickens and rabbits in the mountains, can't he?"

"You…" Helen couldn't take any more of their sarcasm. She turned to Cora, furious. "We're leaving. Let's go home."

"Aunt Helen, don't be in such a rush," Scarlet said, her face tilting into a smirk. "Didn't Emory say he'd heal Cora's legs? I want to see that happen…"

But before she could finish, her expression froze—her mouth slowly falling open in disbelief.

And she wasn't the only one.

In the hospital room, even Madeline and Hilda were staring, stunned.

"Cora… your legs…"

At that moment, the Iris Nightshade juices on Cora's legs had dried, and the dark patches—those deep, stubborn markings—were visibly fading.

"The blood spots… they're disappearing? Cora, could it be… could your legs really be healing?" Helen gasped, unable to contain her shock.

"No! No way!" Scarlet snapped, refusing to believe it. "He must've used the liquid to cover up the spots—some kind of chemical trick. Like invisible ink or something. There's no way her legs are really healing."

"She's right," Hilda echoed, her voice icy. "This is just Emory trying to fool us. There's no way he knows real medicine. Using herb juices to cure a disability? Ridiculous. Unless Cora stands up right now—"

"Exactly. Go on, Cora, stand up. Prove it." The rest of the Madison family chimed in, their tone full of skepticism.

Cora had been in a wheelchair for more than ten years. She had lived half her life unable to walk. How could her legs suddenly be healed?

"I…"

Feeling everyone's gaze lock onto her, Cora shrank back, because she was scared. Scared that if she tried to stand and failed, Emory would have to bear all their scorn again.

"Stop dawdling, Cora. If your legs are really healed, stand up and show us." Even Madeline had her eyes fixed on her.

Cora turned, lips pale and trembling. "Emory… can I?" she asked, hesitating.

It wasn't that she didn't trust him. It was just… healing a disability with herb juices? It felt too fantastical, like something out of a bedtime story.

"You can, Cora," Emory said softly. His voice was quiet, steady, and warm, like a hand on her back in the dark. "Your past may have been full of pain and shadows, but starting today, I'll make sure you know happiness. I'll make you the happiest woman in the world."

Cora nodded hard. Then, with a deep breath, and under the scrutiny of the entire Madison family, she began to rise.

Step.

Step... Step.

Her footsteps echoed softly through the hospital hallway, slow and unsteady.

As Helen watched her stumble forward, her eyes were filled with tears. Her voice broke as she cried out, "Thank heavens… thank heavens… Cora's not crippled anymore."

"What—"

"Her legs… they're really healed?"

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Scarlet and the others tried to suppress the tremor in their voices, but the disbelief hung thick in the air.

When Hilda saw Cora walking, the teacup in her hand slipped and shattered on the floor with a sharp crack. "E-Emory… was it really the herb juices that healed her?"

"What else would it be?" Emory replied calmly, his face unreadable.

Suddenly, Hilda's tone shifted. The bitterness was gone, replaced by something close to desperation. "Emory… do you have any more of that herb juice? Please, give me some. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair."

But Emory only offered her a cold shake of the head. "I'm sorry, Aunt Hilda. I don't have any more. I already gave you some, remember? But you threw it away. You didn't know how to cherish it."

"I… I…" Hilda looked down at the empty patch of floor where the water had spilled and vanished. Her whole body crumpled inward.

"Why… why is my fate so cruel? I don't want to be crippled forever! I don't! Why was I so stupid? Why didn't I believe him?"

Then, with sudden fury, she turned on Scarlet. "This is all your fault! You were the one who slandered him—this is your fault! I should never have listened to you!"

"Mom, calm down!" the short-haired woman beside her tugged at her sleeve, red-eyed.

"Yeah, Aunt Hilda, don't lose it," Scarlet said, trying to steady her. "You don't seriously think that herb juice healed her, do you?"

"What do you mean by that, Scarlet?" Hilda snapped, furious. "I saw Cora stand up with my own eyes. Are you saying that was fake?"

Scarlet scoffed and pulled out her phone. "You all seem to be forgetting something. Cora visited Dr. Ian earlier today. Look—he just texted me."

She held out her phone for everyone to see.

"What…?"

Now even Hilda wavered. She stared at the screen, her expression uncertain.

"Think about it, Aunt Hilda," Scarlet said. "If Emory really had some magical skill, would he have willingly married a disabled woman like Cora? Yesterday, before she went to see Dr. Ian, he couldn't heal her. But today, right after her appointment with Dr. Ian, she can suddenly walk again? That doesn't seem like a coincidence to you?"

A shadow passed through Hilda's face. "You mean… it was Dr. Ian who cured her?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Scarlet's voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

But Cora's eyes flared with anger. "Scarlet, don't twist things! Emory healed me! Just because you don't understand how, doesn't mean it's not real. What if the herb juice is his secret remedy?"

"Sure, sure," Scarlet said with a shrug, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever you say. He's your husband. Whether he's a genius or a fraud, that's your problem. But if he's really that good, why doesn't he heal Aunt Hilda too?"

"Exactly!" Hilda jumped at the suggestion. "Emory, help me—heal my legs and prove it!"

But Emory didn't move. He stood there silently, neither agreeing nor refusing.

"See?" Scarlet's tone sharpened. "He's not doing it because he can't. He's afraid to try and fail."

Just then, Madeline's phone rang.