Irina's POV
I grabbed Wilson's right hand and tugged him along. "What's wrong with your hand?" His sharp eyes caught something off about mine as he took hold of it, his brow creasing with concern.
"Did this happen during the scuffle earlier?"
My fingers showed a purplish tint, tiny marks scattered across all ten digits, with noticeable puffiness.
"Mr. Shaw, you truly live in a different world," I said, my voice flat as I narrowed my eyes slightly. "These are chilblains—something wealthy people like you wouldn't understand."
Winter hit ordinary folks hard.
It was the season that made class differences painfully obvious.
"Rich people get to keep their dignity and stay warm in winter," I said evenly, my tone controlled but firm. "Regular people just get cold. Chilblains aren't exactly shocking."
His eyes shifted. "When did these start? Can't you treat them?"
He seemed confused—after all, I was a doctor. Shouldn't I be able to fix this?
