Theodore Whitmore gave Alexander Blackwood a knowing look, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk.

"So you're here for medicine for that young woman, aren't you?"

Nathan Prescott blinked in surprise. "I thought you said you couldn't tell if Victoria was sick?"

The old herbalist chuckled, "True, I didn't diagnose her. I guessed."

Nathan was rendered speechless.

This eccentric old man had the same sharp tongue as Amy Sinclair!

Alexander, having been warned by Nathan about Theodore's peculiar nature, didn't take the teasing personally. Instead, he locked gazes with the elderly man, his voice low and intense.

"How much time can you give her?"

Theodore's cloudy yet piercing eyes swept over Victoria again, making her feel utterly exposed under his scrutiny.

He quickly looked away and declared with confidence, "I can cure her."

Both men froze. Curing a terminal illness? That was unheard of.

They'd consulted specialists worldwide, all confirming the hopelessness of Victoria's condition. They weren't seeking miracles - just borrowed time.

Yet here was this old man claiming complete recovery. Was he truly gifted or simply delusional?

Alexander's gaze turned razor-sharp. "You haven't examined her or seen her medical records. How can you be so certain?"

Theodore remained unshaken. "Why do you think they call me the Miracle Worker?"

Alexander studied him intently. "Mr. Whitmore, are you absolutely sure?"

Nathan glared at the old man, issuing his own warning. "If you're lying to us, not only will you get nothing, but we'll ruin whatever reputation you have left."

Theodore turned to Nathan. "Were any of the symptoms I mentioned incorrect?" Nathan had no rebuttal.

The old man adopted a sage-like demeanor. "Those who seek my help should know - I don't always charge money. For you two, I want something else entirely."

Nathan frowned. "If not money, then what?"

Theodore's smile turned enigmatic. "I want..."

Amy couldn't reach Alexander by phone but soon received a call from Theodore. "Miss Sinclair, my clinic's been overrun. Short-staffed. If you're free tomorrow, come help out."

Amy hesitated momentarily.

Theodore sounded offended. "What? Now that you don't need my remedies, you won't lift a finger?"

"No, it's not that," Amy quickly explained. "I'm looking after a child. It's school holidays, and his father's away on business."

Theodore's tone softened. "The boy who wanted to perform with you?"

"Yes."

"Bring him along then," Theodore said.

Amy agreed immediately. "We'll be there tomorrow."

Theodore rarely asked for help - he must truly be overwhelmed.

That evening, Amy told Oliver about their plans, and the boy's face lit up.

"Is this the grandpa who taught you about herbs? I want to learn too! Then if you ever get sick, I can make medicine for you!"

Amy smiled but cautioned him. "Oliver, we're going to work, not play. It might be tiring."

The boy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "As long as I'm with you, Amy, I don't mind working hard at all."