THREE YEARS FOR NOTHING

The Healer 2

But Thaddeus was already moving. He pulled a thin case from his pocket, something he’d kept from his time with Augustine, and opened it to reveal a set of silver acupuncture needles. The woman gasped and tried to stop him again, but he was faster.

His hands moved with precision born from three years of training under a master. The first needle slid into a pressure point on the old man’s wrist. The second went into his chest, just above the heart. Three more followed in rapid succession, placed at exact locations along meridian lines most modern doctors had forgotten existed.

Then Thaddeus placed his palm against the old man’s back, closed his eyes, and channeled qi into him—energy flowing from his own body into the failing one beneath his hands. The technique was ancient, something Augustine had called “life transference,” though it wasn’t truly transferring life so much as jumpstarting the body’s own healing mechanisms.

The crowd held its breath. Sixty seconds passed in silence.

Then the old man’s eyes opened. Color flooded back into his face. His breathing deepened, steadied, became strong. He sat up slowly, Thaddeus’s hand still supporting him, and looked around with an expression of profound wonder.

“I feel…” He pressed a hand to his chest, then flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders. “I feel better than I have in twenty years.”

Vivienne stared. “Grandfather?”

The old man—Thaddeus would learn his name was Sterling Ashford, patriarch of one of Millhaven’s four great families, turned to look at Thaddeus with eyes that held recognition. “You saved my life.”

“You’re welcome,” Thaddeus said simply, beginning to remove the needles one by one.

Sterling caught his wrist gently. “That wasn’t an ordinary illness, was it?”

“No. It’s an old internal injury, combat-related, if I had to guess. It’s been eating at your organs for decades.” Thaddeus pulled out another needle. “You’re a martial artist. You stopped taking your prescriptions because you knew they weren’t working.”

Sterling’s eyes widened. “How did you—”

“The calluses on your hands. The way you breathe. The specific placement of the injury.” Thaddeus removed the last needle and tucked the case back into his pocket. “You should be able to stand now.”

Sterling rose to his feet with Vivienne’s help, though he didn’t really need it. He felt genuinely strong, for the first time since the ambush that had nearly killed him forty years ago during his military service. He’d fought for his country, earned medals and honors, even received a commendation from the President himself. But that injury had haunted him ever since, a constant reminder of mortality.

His only regret had been the future of the family business. His sons were capable administrators but lacked the vision to truly lead. Vivienne was brilliant, his brightest hope, but she was young and untested. He’d worried constantly about what would happen when he was gone.

Now, standing here feeling decades younger, Sterling realized the man before him was no ordinary person.

“Grandfather, are you sure you’re alright?” Vivienne’s hands fluttered over him, checking for injuries or signs of distress.

“I’m better than alright.” Sterling laughed, and it was a sound of genuine joy. “I feel like I could run a marathon.”

The crowd around them exhaled collectively. Some applauded. Others wiped away tears of relief.

Sterling turned to address them all. “Everyone back to work. The excitement’s over.” Then he looked at Vivienne. “Write this young man a check for one hundred million dollars.”

Vivienne’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“You heard me. One hundred million. As thanks for saving my life.”

“Grandfather, that’s excessive. The real cure was the hospital’s special medication. He just—” She glanced at Thaddeus with barely concealed suspicion. “He got lucky. And frankly, I think he knew who you were. This whole thing could have been staged.”

Sterling’s face darkened. “Vivienne Ashford, you will apologize to this man immediately and write the check as I instructed.”

She flushed but reached for her checkbook with obvious reluctance. “I apologize,” she said stiffly, though the words carried no real warmth.

Thaddeus waved the check away before she’d even finished writing it. “I don’t want your money. I came here to buy herbs, not to play hero.”

Sterling blinked, then laughed again—a deep, genuine sound. “Of course. We own the largest herbal medicine company in the region. Whatever you need, we can provide it.”

Thaddeus listed the herbs from memory. They were obscure, most of them difficult to source. Vivienne’s expression grew more skeptical with each name, clearly convinced this was some elaborate con.

“I’ll mobilize our entire supply chain,” Sterling promised. “Whatever we find, I’ll report to you immediately.” He paused. “But I insist you take the hundred million as well. You saved my life. That’s worth infinitely more.”

“I don’t need—”

“Please.” Sterling’s voice was earnest. “It would ease my conscience.”

Thaddeus hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”

He moved toward the door, but Sterling called after him. “Wait. Tomorrow night, there’s a banquet at the Astoria Grand Hotel. A celebration for my recovery. I’d be honored if you’d attend as my guest of honor.”

Thaddeus really didn’t want to go to a banquet, but the old man’s sincerity made it difficult to refuse. “I’ll be there.”

As Thaddeus walked out into the evening air, Vivienne watched him go with narrowed eyes. “The herbs are just a cover,” she murmured. “He’s after something else.”

Sterling sighed. “You’re too suspicious, Vivienne.”

“And you’re too trusting.” She turned to him, her expression firm. “At least let me take you to the hospital for a full examination. Please.”

Sterling looked at his brilliant, cautious, and utterly certain granddaughter, who believed she was right about everything, and sighed again.. “Fine. But only to prove you wrong.”