Love Beyond the Mask

Chapter 246

He clenched his tiny fists tightly, unable to articulate a defense against the stinging words.

Ludwik furrowed his brow as he thought about his son, Daniel. The boy was reticent, aloof, and had

always been a loner, playing by himself since he could crawl. The only person he ever opened up to

was Ludwik, his father, and that was only during their love–hate squabbles. The pediatrician had once

commented that Daniel’s solitude bordered on autism.

Elaine had mentioned that the boy struggled to fit in at preschool and often resorted to hitting other

children.

It troubled Ludwik deeply. If mainstreaming him in a regular class could improve his social skills, then it

was worth a shot.

“Alright, we’ll do it your way,” he decided, siding with Elaine, his wife.

Daniel’s hopeful eyes, which had been looking for his dad to object, dimmed at the words. He felt

betrayed. His father never truly inquired about his feelings, always taking Elaine’s side.

With his little fists balled up, the frail boy stood up and stormed off to the backyard.

“He always runs off to his grandmother whenever things don’t go his way. Kids these days…” Ludwik

sighed, hoping his son would grow up healthy and sociable.

“Don’t overthink it, Ludwik,” Elaine consoled, aware of why the boy was upset. In her heart, she reveled

in the discord she sowed between father and son. It was exactly what she wanted.

That old lady in the backyard, who had been hanging on for three years, was a thorn in her side. But

what could the child really confide in her, and could she even hear him?

A child without a mother was easy prey for her schemes. It was unfortunate for Whitney to have passed

so young.

Elaine silently gloated, knowing she held all the cards now. With Whitney’s uncle on the brink of a life

sentence, the Bartels family would soon have nothing to fear.

Once she cured Ludwik of his erectile dysfunction, she would be the happiest woman alive, in both

body and soul.

She smiled to herself, adjusting Ludwik’s tie with feigned affection. “Ludwik, take a couple of hours off

for the hospital appointment, okay?”

Ludwik grunted, clearly unenthusiastic, and headed out, calling the caretaker as he left. “Make sure

Taryn feeds Danny well, and then get him off to preschool.”

“Taryn, you were right. She’s not my real mommy. She pinches and hits me.”

In the quiet solitude of the caretaker’s room, Daniel confided in Taryn beside his comatose

grandmother’s bed.

Taryn looked at the bruises on Daniel’s arm with a heavy heart. The boy was thin, a precious soul

brought up with great care by Ludwik. Ludwik was good at everything but trusting that woman too

much.

When Daniel was two, Elaine had coaxed him into calling her ‘Mommy.’

Taryn quietly disapproved. By the time Daniel turned three and grew more discerning, Taryn made sure

to remind him of his real mother, Whitney Valentine, not wanting him to forget her.

Plus, Elaine sometimes resorted to underhanded tactics with Daniel, and Taryn would reveal them to

the boy in secret. With his sharp intellect, Daniel caught on quickly.

“Before, she switched your medicine. When your daddy wasn’t around, she’d give you cold water to

drink, making you sick. We’re under her roof; we have to play by her rules. It took me a long time to

gain your Daddy’s trust and prevent Elaine from firing me. That’s why I’m still here to look after the old

lady. What else has she done to you?”

Daniel pounded a fist on the bed. “She deliberately put me in a regular class with a bully who picks on

me. Stinky Dad has no clue.”

Taryn was furious. “Your father trusts her blindly with your education… He can’t attend to everything. I

feel powerless. It’s been three years, and your grandmother hasn’t woken up. If only your mother were

here. Danny, just hold on a little longer. Your mom said she’d come back with medicine for grandma.

G•

Maybe she’s on her way back right now, and you’ll have your real mommy soon, free from that wicked

woman’s torment.”

Taryn wiped away a tear, feeling a mix of sadness and hope. She never believed the story that Ms.

Valentine had abandoned her son to run away. It had to be Elaine’s doing.

Daniel looked up, his big eyes filled with confusion. Taryn always talked

about his real mother. Could it be true?

Why had his dad never mentioned her, referring only to Elaine as his

mother?

If he truly had a real mom, where was she? Did she even know she had a precious child waiting for

her? Why had she not come to see him?

The little boy’s expression turned cold and dejected.

At the hospital, Whitney arrived early at the HR department to secure a position, but to her surprise, the

director promoted her to Head of Traditional Medicine and even organized a small meeting to welcome

her.

The department heads gathered around her as if she were a zoo

animal.

“I heard she never formally studied at a traditional medical school. Can she handle it? Today’s patient is

quite high–profile.”

“But the director said Dr. Valentine cured an intractable case of epilepsy abroad that couldn’t even be

solved through surgery.”

“With just acupuncture?” NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“With just acupuncture.”

“That’s incredible.”

The chatter continued,

Whitney responded with a light smile, “When it comes to the nervous system, acupuncture is quite

miraculous.”

She added concisely, “Director, my schedule is tight. I’m only taking this one case for now. No need to

arrange any outpatient visits.”

Orion had arranged her placement, so the director dared not object, especially since her abilities were

well recognized internationally.

Several notorious neurological cases had been cured by the young woman standing before them, who

looked to be in her early twenties.

“Dr. Valentine, your office is on the second floor to the left.”

The male doctors were mesmerized by Whitney’s appearance, while the female doctors chuckled at

the mention of her office location.

Whitney was puzzled by their reactions until she arrived at her office on the second floor. The large

sign that read “andrology” caused her to crack a wry smile.

Andrology…

It indeed involved a broad range of sensitive nerves.

It was not like she had not treated such cases before.

She sighed softly, wearing an expression of professional detachment, and began preparing all the

equipment without the help of an

assistant, given the lucrative fee involved.

Glancing at her watch, it was past nine, and her patient was late. She remembered someone

mentioning that today’s case was not ordinary, likely someone of significance.

They often came with an attitude, probably some pampered heir.

Whitney waited patiently.

She retreated behind a curtain, tying up her hair, slipping on gloves, and checking the equipment once

more. Then, the door opened.

The slow, deliberate footsteps that entered carried an air of authority and purpose.

With her back to the door, Whitney paused briefly as she felt a powerful presence fill the room.

The masculine scent was overpowering, a chill tinged with something oddly familiar.

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Whitney furrowed her brows slightly, plugging in the radio, and just as she heard him take a seat

behind the curtain, the man’s elegant fingers snapped a lighter, igniting a cigarette with a crisp sound.

Whitney picked up the medical chart, frowning, “You can’t smoke in here. Please remove your pants,

Mr. Lip…”

Her eyes dropped to the patient’s name on the chart, and she froze, her voice trailing off into silence.

Behind the curtain, the man’s brows knotted just as tightly, his stunning face clouding over with

frustration, “Felix, why is it a female doctor?”

As the words fell, Ludwik savored the woman’s voice he had just heard,

hoarse, with a familiar softness he had not heard in ages. It was a

voice that carved itself into the bones, tender and soft.

Suddenly, his face seemed to plummet into an abyss, frozen by an icy wind, each inch chilling to the

bone, cracking open.

Whitney’s trembling hands reached for the curtain, her sealed heart bursting with a myriad of emotions,

barely holding together her lovely face that seemed on the verge of collapse. Her fingers stalled on the

fabric as if lacking the courage to pull it aside.