Chapter862ASuddenRevtion


    In truth, a pang of hunger gnawed at Cherise’s stomach.


    The ordeal ofst night’s car ride had sapped much of her energy.


    She pressed her lips together and instructed, “Pop it in the fridge for me; I’ll eat it when I return.”


    With a concerned nce, Frances slipped two packets of hot milk into Cherise’s bag. fearing she might


    grow famished on her way.


    Cherise sipped on the warm milk, exiting the manor while settling into Mr. Kolson’s car.


    Thirty minutester, the vehicle pulled up at the research institute.


    Just as before, upon stepping out of the car at the institute’s entrance, Cherise noticed her colleagues‘


    furtive nces and hushed murmurs.


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    The unresolved giarism issue cast a pall over her interactions.


    These silent judgments weighed heavily on Cherise’s spirits.


    She hastened towards Heather’s usual workspace, milk in hand.


    Heather had mentioned earlier that Mr. Whitlock sought to speak with her, prompting Cherise to head


    straight for his office.


    As she approached within twenty meters of the door, Cherise caught the sound of a woman sobbing


    from within.


    She barely registered the first cry.


    But the second one jolted her to action.


    It was Heather’s voice!


    Hastily, she rushed forward, flinging open the director’s door!


    The sight that greeted her shook Cherise to her core.


    Heathery on the bed, stripped to her shirt, while Ynda, d in white, sat nearby, delicately


    puncturing Heather’s blisters with a needle and holding disinfectant.


    Mr. Whitlock stood at Ynda’s side, offering ointment with a respectful smile.


    The shricks that had echoed earlier had been Heather’s cries as her blisters werenced!


    “What on earth are you doing?”


    Even Cherise’s usuallyposed demeanor cracked at the sight.


    Only then did Ynda deign to acknowledge her presence, her tone icy, “I’m attending to her wounds.”


    Gritting her teeth, Cherise watched Heather’s distress, unable to suppress her anguish, “Attending to


    her?”


    “Indeed,”


    Mr. Whitlock interjected eagerly, brandishing the ointment, “This is the special balm Ms. Weiss


    procured. It promises to heal wounds within a day!”


    “Precisely,”


    Ynda affirmed, epting the ointment from Mr. Whitlock and dabbing it onto Heather’s punctured


    blisters with a cotton swab. “It’s better to endure brief difort now than prolonged agonyter.”


    “These blisters will rupture eventually; it’s best tonce them now for quicker healing.”


    As she tended to Heather’s injuries, Ynda turned her gaze towards Cherise, a hint of mockery and


    challenge dancing in her ink–colored eyes. “As a doctor yourself, you understand, don’t you?”


    “And it’s not just about physical ailments…”


    She elegantly lifted her head as she spoke, her ink–colored eyes carrying a hint of mockery and


    provocation as she looked at Cherise. “The inevitable breakdown of a marriage is also like this.”


    “Mrs. Lenoir, am I right?”


    Cherise’s fists clenched at her sides.


    Sheprehended Ynda’s implications all too well.


    Rowena might have concealed her intentions beneath a facade of vulnerability.


    Ynda was different.


    She wore her desires and confidence openly.


    Her resolute demeanor seemed to assert that Cherise and Damien’s marriage would inevitably crumble


    under her influence.


    Cherise scoffed, “It seems Ms. Weiss is rather skilled at dismantling families.”