Sweet Revenge: The Healer's New Billionaire Husband

Ethan was always sharp-tongued. From the very first day he moved into my house, he never spared me.

He complained that I dispensed herbs too slowly, and mocked me for being too stupid to identify species.

He scoffed at how I, a single girl, spent my days chatting and laughing with the patients who came to our family clinic, calling it utterly improper.

He even said my amateur medical skills were going to end up killing someone.

I never really cared about his harsh words. Every time he mocked me, I just laughed it off.

But as the neighbors heard it more and more, they began to shake their heads.

"The Jiang family raised their daughter to be a useless free-rider. How is she ever going to get married?"

I heard all those whispers, but I didn't care.

Because Ethan had promised me that once he matched into the residency program at the city's top medical center and became a licensed attending physician, he would come back to marry me.

He had promised me himself.

On the day my father was on his deathbed, he gripped Ethan's hand tightly and said, "Ethan, Im leaving Ivy to you."

With bloodshot eyes, Ethan nodded heavily.

I was crying so hard I could barely stand, on the verge of fainting.

He stood behind me for a very long time before speaking in that stiff, awkward tone of his.

"Don't be afraid."

Just those four words. I held onto them for five years.

His parents had passed away early in a car crash.

My father took pity on him, and seeing his natural talent for medicine, knew he was a rare gem.

So my father brought him into our home, paid for his food, housing, and tuition, and even showed him the Jiang family's private medical logssecrets we never shared with outsiders.

Some people said my father was a fool, raising an outsider who might just turn out to be an ungrateful wolf.

But my dad wouldn't listen. He only said a healer must have a benevolent heart, and a good talent shouldn't be wasted.

Later, my father passed away too. He left Jiangs Apothecary to me, and he left Ethan to me.

The day Ethan went to the city to report for his residency, I took a faded, yellowed notebook from my purse and stuffed it into his hands.

It was the Jiang family's ancestral medical log, containing exclusive treatments for dozens of rare and complex illnesses.

"Take it," I said. "The city's major hospitals are full of hidden talents. This notebook will help you secure your footing."

Ethan frowned, a complex emotion flickering in his eyespartly disdain, partly greed.

"This is too valuable. I won't let you down. I'll bring it back when I come to marry you."

After saying that, he opened the car door and drove off without looking back.

That night, I thoroughly washed the small clay pot I used to brew his daily herbal teas and put it away in the cabinet.

Life went on. I waited for his messages, but I didn't receive a single one.

Until one day, Mrs. Gable, a neighbor, came to the apothecary to pick up her prescription. While waiting, she chatted with me.

"Ivy, that Dr. Vance of yours is really making us proud. My son came back from the city and said everyone in the healthcare system is talking about him. The youngest attending physician appointed at the City Central Hospital this year is from our town. I knew it had to be your Ethan!"

The scale in my hand paused.

My heart pounded furiously, like a drum.

He was coming back.

But a few days later, Mrs. Gable returned, this time with an awkward look on her face.

"Ivy... my son brought back some other news.

Your Dr. Vance is married. He married Chloe Hearst, the daughter of the chairman of the Hearst Group in the city."

The wrapping paper in my hand slipped, and the dried herbs scattered all over the floor.

A bitter scent filled the air.

"Who did you hear that from?"

"Its all over the city. They say Miss Hearst had a bizarre illness that the top hospitals couldn't cure. Dr. Vance cured her with a single custom formula. Chairman Hearst was so thrilled that he gave his daughters hand in marriage to him."

I didn't believe it. I sent him a text message with just one line: "Ethan, is the news about the Hearst family true?"

No reply.

I waited for a month, checking my phone every single day.

A month later, I finally got an answer.

It wasn't a text. It was him, in the flesh.

When Ethan stepped through the doors of Jiang's Apothecary, I was behind the counter checking the books.

He wore a custom-tailored dark grey suit and a luxury Swiss watch on his wrist that I couldn't even name.

He was no longer the intern who wore a dusty lab coat and smelled of herbal smoke.

Beside him stood a slender woman wearing designer sunglasses.

She drifted in with the faint, expensive scent of Chanel No. 5, which clashed horribly with the bitter smell of herbs in the shop.

"Ethan..." I stood up, my voice trembling slightly.

He didn't look at me. His cold gaze swept across the apothecary where he had lived for ten years.

As if he were looking at a dusty old warehouse that had nothing to do with him.

"Miss Jiang," he spoke, his tone as distant as if he were addressing a stranger.

Miss Jiang. Not Ivy.

My chest tightened, as if pierced by an invisible needle.

"Bring out the centuries-old wild ginseng of the Jiang family," he said in a stiff, commanding tone. "Chloes body is weak. She needs it to restore her vitality."

I froze.

That centuries-old wild ginseng was the treasure of the Jiang family. More importantly, it was what my father had desperately commanded me to keep to save Ethan's life.

Ethan was born prematurely, carrying a congenital weakness in his system. Every time the seasons changed, his joints would ache terribly.

My father said that by the time Ethan turned twenty-five, the illness would attack his heart and lungs.

Only this specific ginseng, combined with our family's unique acupuncture technique, could root it out.

I had guarded this ginseng as if I were guarding his life.

"Do you know who this ginseng was kept for?" I stared into his eyes, trying to find a trace of the past.

Ethan let out a cold laugh, pulled a sleek black card from his wallet, and slammed it onto the counter.

"Besides Chloe, who else deserves such a rare treasure? Ivy, I know you're greedy. The money on this card is enough to buy ten of your little apothecaries. Don't be ungrateful."

The black credit card gleamed sharply in the dim light of the shop.

The woman behind the sunglasses coughed twice, her voice delicate and soft. "Ethan, if Miss Jiang is unwilling to part with it, then forget it. My health doesn't matter."

"Chloe, don't worry about it. There is no medicine in this world that I, Ethan Vance, cannot get."

When he turned to look at Chloe, his tone was so gentle it could melt.

That kind of gentleness was something he had never given to me.

For ten years, all he gave me was sarcasm and impatience.

Looking at him, I suddenly found it incredibly hilarious.

I burst out laughing, laughing so hard that tears almost came to my eyes.

"Fine. I'll sell it."

I turned around, went into the back room, and retrieved the redwood box containing the ginseng from the safe.

The box was carved with intricate patterns. I had wiped it clean every day to keep it shining.

I walked back out, pushed the box in front of him, and then slid his black card back.

"Dr. Vance, I only take cash or wire transfer. Once the payment clears, we are done. From now on, the Jiang family has nothing to do with you."

Ethans brow furrowed slightly, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say something, but in the end, he just let out a cold snort, picked up the box, and supported Chloe as they turned to leave.

As he reached the door, he stopped. Without turning around, he said, "Ivy, you're still as gold-digging as ever. You only care about money."

I watched their figures disappear at the end of the street.

Ten years. He ate my family's food, used my family's money, and learned my family's medicine.

My father supported him to help him succeed, and I waited for him to come back and marry me.

And before leaving, all he had for me was the word "gold-digger."

That night, I set up a fire pit in the backyard and threw the half-made wedding dress I had been sewing into the flames.

The fire flared up high. The white silk curled, turned black, and dissolved into ashes.

Leo, the young apprentice, peeked from the doorway and whispered, "Ivy, what are you..."

"I don't need it anymore."

The words squeezed out of my throat, dry and hollow, like I had swallowed a handful of sand.

I didn't cry. Not a single tear fell.

But my throat felt like it was being squeezed tightly, making it hard to breathe.

I stood up, my legs a bit weak. I held onto the edge of the table for a moment, then walked behind the counter and started tapping on the iPad register.

*Tap, tap, tap.* As the numbers flashed, my hands stopped shaking.

That was the method my dad taught me. He said when your mind is messy, just do the math. Once the numbers are clear, your mind will be at peace.

I calculated the apothecarys accounts from beginning to end. Once wasn't enough, so I did it again.

By the third time, my fingers stopped cooperating. I pressed the wrong button, then another.

I stopped and pushed the iPad aside.

I went back to my room, lay down, and reached under my pillow out of habit.

It was empty. The medical log notebook had already been taken by him.

I had been reaching for it for over six months, and every time I found nothing, my heart felt a little emptier.

I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head.

Forget it.

The man was gone, the book was gone, and the ginseng was sold.

What was the point of thinking about it?

He didn't even care about his own life anymore, so why should I worry for him?

After Ethan left, business at Jiangs Apothecary got worse by the day.

Rumors spread that "the Jiang girl failed to cling to the genius doctor and was dumped."

Our old clients all drifted to the chain pharmacy down the street.

Chloe's personal assistant came by once.

Dressed in a sharp business suit, she walked into the apothecary, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief in disgust as she circled the counter.

"Oh, so this is the famous Jiang clinic? Smells like mold." She let out a cold laugh. "Miss Jiang, our Dr. Vance is a merciful man. Out of pity for your family taking him in back then, he sent me to offer you a way out. You can't keep this place running on your own anyway. Why not sell it to the Hearst Groups health management branch? Dr. Vance can even arrange a receptionist job for you here. You still need to eat, right?"

I looked up at her, my hands never stopping as I crushed herbs with the copper pestle.

"Are you here to buy medicine, ma'am? If not, please leave. Jiang's Apothecary is not for sale."

Her face twisted, and she spat, "Ungrateful brat! Dr. Vance said it himselfa placebo healer like you who can't even tell herbs apart will kill someone sooner or later! Just you wait!"

She clacked away in her high heels.

I didn't have time to deal with her. The counter was piled with last month's bills and several herbs that desperately needed processing.

That afternoon, a light drizzle started to fall outside.

A man wearing a dark blue trench coat walked into the shop.

"Excuse me, can you treat patients here?"

I looked up and saw a face as warm and smooth as jade.

His eyes were beautiful, like a clear lake in autumn.

They carried a reassuring calm.

In his arms, he held a young man whose face was turning purple, his breathing extremely weak.

"Lay him flat, loosen his collar." I quickly set down my work, walked over, and checked his carotid artery.

His pulse was thin and weak, barely there.

"Your friend is lucky he ran into me." I turned to the cabinets, swiftly grabbing herbs, mixing them, preparing an injection, and applying acupuncture.

Forty minutes later, the young man let out a long breath. His color slowly returned to a normal pale state, and his breathing stabilized.

The man in the trench coat let out a sigh of relief and pulled out his phone to pay.

"I'll transfer you ten thousand."

"Ten thousand?" I was stunned. "The cost of the medicine is less than fifty. With the treatment fee, just give me fifty dollars."

He lowered his phone and smiled. His smile was like a warm spring breeze.

"You have incredible skills, Dr. Jiang. I asked three major hospitals in the city about this toxin, and they all said it was untreatable. You cured it in under an hour."

I blinked, counting his change. "Do you know me? Are you from the city?"

"Julian Cole, from Cole Pharmaceuticals." He bowed slightly, pulling a card from his cardholder and handing it to me. "My father was an old friend of your fathers. I came here when I was a kid."

He looked at me, his gaze gentle, without a hint of arrogance.

"Back then, you were sitting behind the counter cutting licorice root. You cut your finger and cried so hard, your eyes getting all red like a startled rabbit."

My face flushed instantly.

"Mr. Cole, the fee is fifty. Here is your change." I pushed the cash forward.

"Keep it."

"We are strangers. I can't take extra money from you."

He paused, then accepted the change.

"Then I won't overpay," he said. "But can I come by and sit here sometimes?"

"Sit in an apothecary?"

"Yes. Have some tea, chat. And maybe learn a thing or two about natural medicine."

I looked at him, unsure of what he was planning.

But his eyes were clean. There was no scrutiny like Ethans, nor any mockery like that assistants.

He just stood there quietly, waiting for my answer.

"Suit yourself. Just don't disrupt my business."

He smiled. Not a polite, formal smile, but a genuinely happy one.

His eyes curved, and the calm lake in his gaze rippled with warmth.

"See you tomorrow then."

He turned and walked out. His dark blue figure stepped into the rainy alley, opening a long-handled black umbrella before disappearing.

I lowered my head and continued crushing the herbs. *Thud, thud, thud.*

As the pestle struck the mortar, my heart rate finally began to slow down.

Julian began to visit Jiangs Apothecary regularly.

Not for treatment, just to hang out.

He brought premium green tea, sweet pastries from the city's best bakery, and interesting news from the outside world.

He sat in his corner, and I worked in mine. We each minded our own business, occasionally exchanging a word or two.

Once, he picked up a prescription sheet I had written and flipped through it.

"Your handwriting has gotten really beautiful, and this herbal formula is incredibly elegant."

"Practice makes perfect. I used to be told my work was absolute garbage," I said flatly.

"You've always been amazing." He looked at me, his tone earnest. "Your father told my father years ago that his daughters talent for identifying medicine was a once-in-a-century gift. He said you were a natural-born healer."

My eyes stung, turning red.

This was the first time anyone had told me that my father had praised me.

Under Ethan's long shadow, I had always believed I was just a useless fool.

"The day I came here with my father when we were kids, he pointed at you while you were drying herbs in the yard. He said, 'That little girl's medical skills will definitely surpass yours in the future.'"

I lowered my head, pounding the herbs in my mortar with extra force.

The loud noise masked the tears that were about to fall.

Julian didn't say anything, quietly sipping his tea.

After a few sips, he suddenly asked, "Do you still receive a rare herb every autumn?"

My hands stopped.

"How do you know about that?"

"One year, I passed by your clinic and saw a package at the door containing a rare snow lotus. You were crouching there, opening it and looking around in confusion."

"That did happen. It's been going on for years. Every year is differentsometimes wild ginseng, sometimes rare mushrooms. I never figured out who sent them."

"You never checked the tracking number?"

"I did. The sender was always anonymous."

"Did they keep coming?"

"Yes, every year."

"Who do you think it is?"

I shook my head.

He was asking too many detailed questions. A thought suddenly crossed my mind.

I looked up at him. He still looked perfectly calm, head lowered as he drank his tea, his long eyelashes casting shadows that hid his expression.

Could it be him?

But as soon as the thought appeared, I crushed it.

No way. How old was he back then?

Besides, as the heir to a massive pharmaceutical empire, why would he send such expensive herbs to me year after year for no reason?

I was overthinking.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "Probably some patient my father saved in the past."

Julian didn't push further. He set his teacup down and looked out at the drizzling rain.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said. "Just wondering."

He stood up and walked to the door.

"See you tomorrow."

The door clicked shut, and he was gone.

I sat behind the counter, holding the pestle, feeling as though a feather had gently brushed against my heart.

But it was just a fleeting sensation.

Who knew.

I lowered my head and got back to work.