Chapter 9

Fiona got out of the cab when she got to her destination and saw the iron gate of a luxury mansion built in a modern style. As she got closer to the gate, she saw a handsome man waiting for her in the distance.

She could tell he was a little wary when he looked at the medicine bag she was carrying before he approached her. Peter Hopkins, the director-in-charge of Rende Hospital, asked her to see one of their most important clients. Her patient in question was somewhat at the pinnacle of high society.

As she made her way to the front porch, Fiona waited for the man to reach her. With his simple cotton shirt and black trousers, his eyebrows jolted up as he inquired, "You're Dr. Fiona Smith, correct?"

Now that she was beside him, Fiona guessed the man was in his early 20s. Although dressed casually, he exuded a dignified aura that belied his frivolous appearance.

"Yes. Our director, Dr. Hopkins, sent me for the check-up," Fiona replied professionally. She bowed at him, lowering her head and trying to keep herself in place.

"Great! We're just waiting for you, Dr. Smith. Anyway, it's nice meeting you." He extended his hand to her, which Fiona shook amiably.

"Pleasure is mine, Mr. Clinton."

Dr. Hopkins had told her that she would be working with one of their VVIP patients and would have to try to go to his home. He also warned her that he came from an influential background and that everything he disclosed to her would remain confidential.

What Fiona didn't expect was that her patient would be quite young.

Despite agreeing to the assignment without much thought, Fiona couldn't help but feel uneasy as her client's eyes bore her with a strange intensity. This job would be more challenging than she had anticipated.

"Dr. Smith, I must say, you are much younger and more beautiful than I had anticipated," he felicitated Fiona, seemingly unaware of her skeptical expression.

"Er, I'm grateful for the compliment. But I'd rather be recognized for my abilities than my appearance," Fiona replied discreetly, quickly refocusing on the conversation. "May I know how you are feeling now, Mr. Clinton?"

As it turned out, the man before Fiona was Edgar Clinton, a well-known figure in Cester. Fiona knew who he was because he came from a prominent family and was involved in several scandals.

Upon hearing Fiona address him by name, Edgar did not appear to be taken aback. "As much as it is an honour to have a doctor like you, Dr. Smith, I'm not your patient." he clarified as he led her through the quiet and spacious villa.

Fiona felt a wave of disbelief wash over her when she realized Edgar wasn't the patient.

'Wait, so he's not my patient? Who is it then?' She couldn't help but wonder who could be important enough for him to handle this matter personally.

"Oh. "I'm sorry for being presumptuous, Mr. Clinton," Fiona apologized, nibbling her lower lip.

"Nah. It's all good." He smiled, dismissing Fiona's bold assumption. He approached her and took her medical bag, motioning for her to follow him. "Come inside. He's waiting in the room."

As they went up to the second floor, Fiona noticed there were no staff or other people in the villa. They eventually arrived at the master's bedroom, where Edgar instructed Fiona to wait outside.

For such a massive place, it was odd that they had no personnel working with them. Because of this, Fiona couldn't help but think of Laura, who was very stubborn about even the most minor, menial tasks being done by her assistants.

'They must be the type of people who revel in simplicity rather than ostentatiousness.'

She followed Edgar in silence to the second floor until they stood before the door of the master bedroom. "Wait a minute," Edgar instructed, turning to face her.

Fiona dipped her chin in response.

"Oh, by the way. I'll just give you a heads-up to be prepared, Dr. Smith. He's a bit eccentric and moody, so keep that in mind." Edgar warned Fiona in a hushed tone before disappearing into the room.

Fiona could understand Edgar's warning because she had worked with many different kinds of patients in the past. "Thank you for telling me ahead of time, Mr. Clinton," she responded.

"Just call me Edgar. We can drop the formalities, Dr. Smith," he requested before he moved closer to the door. Edgar rapped on the door three times before he announced, "Hey, Dr. Smith is here. Open the door."

However, there was no response from within.

"Oi! She's waiting! What are you doing inside that you can't open the door?" Edgar knocked again but still received no answer.

Looking slightly abashed, Edgar turned to Fiona and explained, "I'm really sorry about this, Dr. Smith. He's quite aloof with people. But don't worry. He'll warm up just fine."

"It's fine. I understand, Mr. Clinton," she replied courteously while gripping tightly at her sling bag.

"Will you please open the door? Don't make this hard for us." Edgar sighed, his shoulders slumping in resignation. He kept knocking, but the man inside was adamant about ignoring him.

"Ugh, damn this bastard!" Edgar cursed under his breath.

Fiona's curiosity about this patient was only piqued further. 'What could be his problem?' She can't bear to ask herself as she got curious about her patience's obstinate reclusiveness.

After knocking for a while, Edgar's patience wore thin. He raised his voice, his anger showing, saying, "Hey, Rodriguez, stop dragging this out any longer. I'll slam the door if you don't open the goddamn door right now! How can you act like this toward your best friend and this lovely woman?!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the door creaked open from the inside. An irritable man popped before them as his chilling, threatening voice expressed, "How many times must I tell you, Edgar? I'm not ill! So, just go away!"