She wouldn''t havee here alone to face him without a n. Ste stopped cold, her face a mask of calm as she met the gaze of the towering man before her. When she spoke, her voice didn''t waver.


    "If you agree to let Abby go, I can give you the medicine Deanna needs," she stated firmly.


    Haynes stopped in his tracks, his eyes cold as ice as he turned sharply to face her. "So, you really do have the medicine my mother needs," he said, his voiceced with suspicion.


    Ste shrugged off his attitude with ease. "Mr. O''Brien, you''ve always been the devoted son. Surely, you wouldn''t stand by and watch Deanna suffer from her headaches without doing something about it?"


    "Ste, you''re bing quite the negotiator," Haynes replied, a bitter edge to his words.


    Ste offered a faint smile. "There''s a time for emotions, and a time for


    negotiations. Mr. O''Brien, you didn''t let Abby go just because she''s my friend, did you?"


    "I''m simply following your example, practicing the same tough love. Is there anything wrong with that?"


    Human nature, after all, is hypocritical.


    So long as the blows don''tnd on one''s own body, the pain is never truly felt.


    When he put Rachel in difficult situations for his own sake, did he ever stop to think about how she felt?


    Now that it''s his turn, he finds it unbearable?


    Rachel always loved to make Haynes choose between two things, didn''t she?


    Fine, let''s see Haynes make his choice now.


    Let''s see what''s more important: his mother or getting revenge for his beloved Rachel.


    Haynes stared at her for a long time.


    Ste met his gaze steadily, without a hint of evasion. After a while, Haynes averted his eyes, disappointment clouding his expression.


    She''d stopped expecting anything from Haynes years ago. Let him believe whatever he wanted—she was done trying to justify herself to him.


    "Alright," Haynes finally said, "Bring the medicine, and I''ll let Abby go."


    Ste nodded. "Deal."


    The next morning, Ste made her way to a small herbal shop tucked away in a hard-to-find alley. The shop was old and shabby, its sign faded and barely legible.


    As soon as she entered, the pungent aroma of herbs enveloped her senses.


    An elderly man with a head full of white hair sat behind the counter, peering through his sses as he sniffed at a handful of herbs, jotting something down in a notebook.


    Ste approached him quietly. "Mr. Burton," she greeted him.


    Mr. Burton didn''t bother to look up. "Here for more medicine, are you? I told youst time, that was thest batch."


    Ste began hesitantly, "Mr. Burton, I was wondering if I could ask a small favor


    Before she could finish, Mr. Burton waved his hand sharply, cutting her off. "Not happening. Get lost," he muttered gruffly.


    Mr. Burton had just turned seventy and was known for his quirky temperament. But his skills as a herbalist were unmatched. When Ste learned that Deanna had chronic headaches, she''d gone through great lengths to find him, hoping to win Deanna''s favor.


    On her first visit, Mr. Burton had given her the cold shoulder, kicking her out the door before she even exined her purpose. His reason? He didn''t like the look of her.


    Ste had encountered plenty of entric people in her time, but never a doctor quite like him.


    Maybe he was just having a bad day, she thought, and so, she returned the next day, only to be turned away again.


    For a whole week, Ste showed up, and finally, Mr. Burton spared her a nce.


    "I only sell medicine to those in need. You look like ady of means. With your family''s wealth, why not seek out a famous doctor? Why waste your time with an old man like me?"


    "Mr. Burton," Ste said carefully, "everyone says your skills are unmatched. Even the illnesses regr doctors can''t handle you fix them like it''s nothing."