Taming the Bitch (COMPLETED)

Chapter XLVIII - CLOVER WISH

Gabrielle places the stethoscope on the little girl's chest, instructing her to take deep breaths as she listens to the steady drumming of her heart.

The little girl sniffles, glancing up at the doctor before looking away, embarrassed when Gabrielle catches her staring at her face so guiltily. Gabrielle frowns, pursing her lips at the angelic little face before tsking gently, which makes the child sob and pout anew.

"Don't cry on me, young lady..." she whispers, lifting the stethoscope from the child's chest and removing the earpieces from her own ears.

Shaking her head at the little girl, Gabrielle struggles not to smile at her attempt to keep composure. She is undeniably charming, even in tears.

"Your mother will have quite the task washing your dress, young lady," she remarks, hands on her hips, tapping her foot as she shakes her head.

"Didn't your mummy tell you not to play on the hill? Look at you now..." she tsks again. The almost-two-year-old sniffles, wiping her cheeks, spreading more mud across her cherubic face.

Gabrielle cannot deny the little girl's beauty, despite the grime. Those round, doll-like eyes framed with long lashes, that small pointed nose—so endearing she can't resist pinching it gently between her forefinger and middle finger.

"Now, young lady, how do you plan to explain these scratches on your knees to your mother, hmm?" Gabrielle narrows her eyes at the mud-covered imp atop the hospital bed in her humble clinic. They are on her private island in France, where she's established a small clinic for her people. The nearest hospital is hours away by yacht or private jet, so she decided to open a clinic once she resumed her licence as a doctor.

"I was just catching butterflies... I di-int want to go to duh hill. The butterflies... took me there."

"Ah-huh... the butterflies took you there, did they?" Gabrielle crosses her arms, regarding the child, who, at this young age, already demonstrates remarkable reasoning. She nods reassuringly.

Many times she has treated the little girl's minor wounds. A clever little fox, she always sneaks out of her playroom, evading her nanny just to explore the yard. The hill at the back of the château is usually safe, but the recent rains have rendered it slippery. Her mother has expressly forbidden playing there unsupervised.

Yet Veronica, ever the tiny tyrant, is crafty. One moment, she's out of sight; the next, she's covered in mud, "catching butterflies."

"Young lady... what if you rolled down and hit not just your elbows but your head? What if you can't find your mummy again? Do you like seeing her cry?"

Veronica bursts into tears. She despises upsetting her mother, yet the allure of butterflies is irresistible. Her mother has been unwell lately, often sitting quietly in a corner, head in hand. Today, she tried to lift her mother's spirits with butterflies—but ended up rolling into a mud puddle, precisely as Gabrielle discovered her.

"I'm sowwee... Nic doesn't want mummy crying... Nic just wants mummy to see butterflies." She sniffles, revealing the other hand she had been hiding behind her back. Gabrielle's heart melts at the tiny palm, smeared with mud but innocent.

"Alright... don't cry now, my love... just promise your mother you won't sneak out again, hmm?" Gabrielle wipes the mud from her blushing cheeks, lifts her chin, and smiles down at her.

"Can you do that, Nic? Can you promise mummy?" The girl nods, a small smile breaking through.

"Pinky swear?" Gabrielle raises her pinky, and the child's deep blue eyes glisten as she locks her tiny pinky with hers. Gabrielle notices the hidden leaf in her little hand.