Chapter 5

Mildred made a quick trip back to Westbury, the old towns of Riverdale, and what the rich now called the slums. Once, Riverdale had been a tiny city, and this had been the whole of it. People had just been concerned about staying fed and warm. Then came the economic bloom, when land reclamation spread out Riverdale to the sea, and wealth started funneling in through ports and runways. The gap between the wealthy and poor grew so vast that those who rose to power forgot that they, too, once came from humble beginnings. Mildred had just stepped off the bus when someone bumped into her from behind. She turned around to see a middle-aged lady, Ava Kinsella, toppling over at her feet with a loud thud and drawing a small crowd. "Hey, must be a scam, huh? Poor girl's going to have to cough up a fortune to compensate." "Maybe she did knock her down. Look at the blood on her head!" Mildred glanced down at Ava's ashen face, purple-tinged lips, and limbs twitching uncontrollably. It was clearly not a scam. Crouching down, she pressed two fingers to Ava's wrist. Her pulse was tight and thready—classic signs of a swollen liver. She lifted Ava's eyelids to find that the pupils were slightly dilated. "A stroke's coming on…" Mildred murmured and swiftly made her diagnosis. If no one did anything, Ava might not make it. She reached into her bag for her thin silver needle, only to be snapped at by a man behind her. "Don't you dare mess around! Do you even understand the consequences if something goes wrong?" "Seriously, can such a young kid actually know what she's doing? Or is this just a scam?" "How are we supposed to know if we can count on her? Just wait for the ambulance!" Mildred ignored them all as she steadied the thin silver needle and pressed it into Ava's GV 26. Her movements were practiced and fluid, and her fingers never faltered. As the silver needle was embedded, Ava's tremors slowed, and her breathing evened out. Just then, a girl in a flowing dress, Zoey Sheppard, rushed forward, flanked by black-suited bodyguards. She anxiously called out, "Mom! Wake up!" As if on cue, Ava's eyelids fluttered open. Mildred pressed down on her shoulder and gently said, "Don't talk yet. Stay calm." She carefully slipped the first needle out and left one more on LI 4 to keep Ava stable before looking up at Zoey. "She needs a CT scan. There might be a minor bleeding in the brain." Tears welled up in Zoey's eyes as she pleaded. "Can you come with me? Please tell the doctors what's happening!" "Sure." … At the hospital, Mildred waited quietly in the hall when leather shoes clinked loudly against the floor behind her. She turned around and froze. A man in a black suit approached, whose sharp facial features and chiseled jawline gave off a cold, aristocratic air. It was him… "Are you Mildred Ginger?" The familiar force she'd felt washed through her as she warily stepped back. "Who are you?" The man narrowed his dark eyes as shadows flickered across his expression. "Dorian Sheppard. The lady you helped is my mother, and I rushed over after receiving my sister's call." Just then, Zoey emerged from the examination room and threw herself into Dorian's arms. "You're finally here, Dorian! I was so terrified!" "How's Mom?" "She's fine now. The doctor said Ms. Ginger saved her in time, and if she hadn't stepped in, Mom might not have made it." Zoey turned to Mildred with a deep bow. "Thank you so much, Ms. Ginger. Oh, and I'm Zoey Sheppard. "Where do you live? Once Mom's better, we'll pay a visit and thank you properly." "No need. It was nothing." Even as Mildred turned to leave, that figure in black lingered in her mind. When she stepped outside, thunder cracked overhead, followed by torrential rain pouring down. She hurriedly stepped back, but her newly cleaned sneakers still caught a few drops. A warm hand landed on her back, and she instantly sensed that familiar force again. "What's up, Mr. Sheppard?" He steadied her, raising his eyebrows slightly. "How did you know it was me without turning around?" "Is everything all right with Mrs. Sheppard?" "Her condition's stabilized, and Zoey's waiting for her to wake up." "Then why—" "It's raining, so let me take you home." Before Mildred could reject, a black Maybach rolled up in front of her. Dorian opened a huge, black umbrella, blocking out the gray sky above her. "Let's go." … They drove in silence as the rain drummed on the roof. From time to time, Mildred turned to steal glances at Dorian. She was certain she hadn't met him in her previous life, but the Sheppards were a household name. Among the nouveau riche of recent decades, the Sheppards stood unchallenged and claimed the throne. Walter Sheppard was legendary in the business world, and his heir was rumored to be a sharp, ruthless strategist with uncanny foresight. He was a man the old-money nobles feared and couldn't afford to cross. "What are you looking at, Ms. Ginger?" Though caught red-handed, Mildred didn't bother hiding anything. "You. I was wondering if we've met before." In the passenger seat, the assistant, Miguel Penworth, nearly choked after hearing her words. He'd seen countless women trying to hit on Dorian, but that was seriously an outdated line. Dorian's eyes gleamed with a trace of a barely noticeable smile as he leaned in and said, "Well, take a good look. Have we?" His dark eyes held a glimmer of amusement and were completely devoid of sharpness, almost like a deliberate display of harmlessness. Mildred studied him before disappointedly shaking her head. "I have a terrible memory. Even if we had, I wouldn't remember." Something flickered behind his eyes and was gone in a blink. Then, he smiled and replied, "Maybe I just have an average face." Miguel choked for real this time. Dorian's face could contend against half the male actors in the entertainment industry, yet he claimed to be average. But Mildred shook her head and truthfully remarked, "No way. You're good-looking." "Thanks, I guess." Miguel finally caught on that Dorian seemed to be humoring her. … They turned off the main roads and snaked through the maze-like alleys of Westbury before stopping at the end of Elmwell Lane. A run-down house that might collapse with the next gust of wind entered their sight. Dorian stepped out and circled around to open Mildred's door, holding an umbrella. She walked under it, dry to the last step, until she reached the faded front door. "Thanks, but I've arrived." The rain continued pouring. Even as he stood a step below her, he still seemed taller. "Do you still remember my name, Ms. Ginger?" "Dorian Sheppard." A faint smile curled at his lips as he said, "Good. Now get inside before you get wet." The Maybach had barely turned out of Elmwell Lane when an elderly man in slippers splashed through a puddle and ran into the alley, holding a half-broken umbrella over his head. "Mr. Sheppard, that's the old traditional medicine practitioner Mrs. Sheppard wanted to see today. Shall we bring him to the hospital for another look?" Through the window, Dorian watched the old man pound on Mildred's door and grin as he rushed in. "No need. Mom found the wrong person, and he can't cure her." … Mildred's lips twitched helplessly as she watched the elderly man flop onto the floor after barely stepping through the door. Then, he flailed his arms and legs as if he were throwing a tantrum. "You're 73, not three, Mr. Quirke. That trick doesn't work anymore. "Plus, I never said I wouldn't go to the Luzon residence." Hermes Quirke hopped up onto his feet. "Really? You're not lying, are you? You've been treating patients at my clinic for a year now, but you've never shown your face." She shot him a look. "So, why are you here then?" He just grinned. "The Luzon boy's had it rough. He's been sick half his life, and now that he's getting better, he just wants to thank you himself. "He doesn't even care if he could see you in person, and he's been here three times just to give you a gift. He's weak, and at this rate, I'm worried he'll drop dead in the clinic." "...Tell him to leave it by the northwest corner of the Luzon residence. I'll pick it up tomorrow night." "Got it! And here, my wife made truffle garlic bread. Make sure to eat up; you're skin and bones!" Once Hermes opened the door, wind and rain howled through the rattled house. He suddenly looked back at her and asked, "Oh, and one more thing. Congratulations on finding your family. Has it brought back any memories yet?"