Don't Mess with the Girl with Candy novel Chapter 18

She was exquisitely beautiful, with an air of quiet sophistication that was incredibly calming. This girl… wouldn't she be a perfect match for her good-for-nothing grandson?

“The needles can be removed in two hours,” Juniper reminded them as she organized her backpack.

“They have to stay in that long?” The old woman’s eyes twinkled, her expression turning grandmotherly. “Would it be convenient for you to come home with us? That way, our family can thank you properly.”

Juniper glanced at the time. It was almost six. If she was too late, Saskia would worry.

“I’m sorry, I have other plans,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh, I see.” The old woman looked disappointed but didn’t want to impose. She quickly thought of another solution. “Well, then let me get your number. That way I can arrange to return your needles.”

Another person asking for her number? Juniper frowned. It seemed to be happening a lot lately.

But the needles were important. They were made of a special material, impossible to replace.

“All right,” she agreed, concerned about getting her needles back. She and the old woman exchanged contact information.

After giving a few more brief instructions, Juniper gave a slight nod and boarded the bus.

As the bus pulled away, the old woman watched it go, a wistful look on her face. Then she remembered to call her grandson. “Shanley, we found your grandfather. He was lucky. A young girl who knows medicine saved him. He’s fine now.”

“That’s good to hear.” Shanley rubbed his temples, a weight lifting from his chest.

“I’ve been around traditional medicine for years, and I know what I saw. That girl is an absolute master.”

“Is she?” Shanley relaxed, leaning back against the car seat as he resumed typing on his laptop. “Make sure you thank her properly.”

After ending the call, Shanley raised a lazy eyebrow and glanced at Felton in the driver’s seat. “Any news from J-Five?”

“She declined, Boss.”

Five was a legendary figure in the jewelry design world, specializing in bespoke pieces. Her designs were highly sought after by socialites and wealthy matriarchs. Unfortunately, she was notoriously low-key and only accepted commissions when the mood struck.

His boss had offered an eight-figure sum for a custom piece for Hannah, but even that had been rejected.

“Did you increase the offer?” Shanley’s brows furrowed, a hint of frustration clouding his handsome features.

“We did,” Felton answered honestly. “The designer’s response was, er, that she’s not short on that kind of pocket change.”

Eight figures was pocket change? Cocky!