Blanche shut her eyes, wishing she’d never have to wake up and face the hollow absurdity of her life again.
The sharp prick of a stimulant needle snapped her back into the world, in searing
through her skin, yanking her from the void.
She lay sprawled across the king size bed, staring listlessly at the vague shapes of people moving about the room.
“I want to see her,” she whispered.
Eddy, instantly attentive, smiled with relief. “Of course. But first, sweetheart, you need to finish your soup. Be good for me, and tomorrow I’ll take you to see Clara
Seeing that Blanche didn’t protest, he gently propped her up, signaled for the maid to bring in the nourishing broth, and spoon–fed her himself. Murmuring softly in her ear, he coaxed, “Clara wouldn’t want her mom to be so sad. You have to stay
strong, for her.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “And for Healy, too. He needs you.”
exasperation. He echoed Eddy’s
Healy stood by the doorway, his gaze a complicated mix of concern and
words, almost by rote. “Mom, hang in there.”
Without lingering, he turned to leave, grabbing Lauren’s hand. “Can I go see Miss Jean after school tomorrow?” he asked, already halfway out the door.
Whatever Lauren replied was muffled by the closing of the bedroom door as the maid quietly ushered them out.
Only then did Blanche realize how impossible it was for Healy to ever be close to her again, not the way he was when he was little.
That night, Eddy stayed by her side, sitting up through the dark hours. Blanche drifted in and out of restless sleep, waking from nightmares gasping Clara’s name, dissolving into tears in Eddy’s arms.
The next morning, they boarded a helicopter and soared toward a private island.
When she was pregnant with Clara, Blanche had loved the gleaming ocean and the powdery white sand. She remembered Clara kicking gently whenever they neared the shore, as if even unborn, her daughter could sense the sun and salt air, and relished it.
Guilt had kept Blanche from setting foot on the island all these years. Every
anniversary of Clara’s passing, Eddy made the pilgrimage while Blanche circled above in the helicopter, never landing, only watching from afar.
The only people living on the island were caretakers. Besides Clara’s grave, there was nothing else–no reminders, no distractions.
Blanche brought a bouquet of her mother’s favorite tulips, laying them gently at Clara’s tombstone.
As she tried to speak, grief clenched her throat, and her eyes stung with tears she couldn’t hold back.
She pressed a trembling hand to her abdomen, whispering silently: If you’d give me a second chance to be your mother, I promise I’ll do everything to protect you. I won’t fail you again.
The research base was full of brilliant minds–surgeons, biologists, geneticists. Someone would find a way to help her keep this child.
A sudden gust whipped the sand around her, sunlight glinting off her tear tracks like a thousand tiny diamonds–almost as if her daughter had answered her.
A choked laugh broke through her tears. Blanche wrapped her arms protectively around her belly. “Let’s not let anyone disturb our little girl, okay?”
She glanced up at Eddy, and in that moment, his heart softened, utterly undone by her fragile smile. He felt, for a fleeting second, as if he’d been handed the whole world.
“Whatever you say, darling.” Eddy pulled Blanche into a fierce embrace.
Blanche slipped her wedding ring from her finger and tucked it among the tulips on Clara’s grave.
This was the end of Blanche and Eddy.
That night, after settling Blanche into bed, Eddy crossed the island to another villa.
Jeannette met him at the door, eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. She threw her arms around his neck, her voice trembling, syrup–sweet. “I swear, I didn’t mean to tell your wife the truth about Clara. She just asked me out of nowhere…”
But when her gaze met Eddy’s icy, implacable stare, Jeannette’s words died in her throat. Panic flashed in her eyes as she pressed her body against him, desperate to ignite even a flicker of his desire.
But this time, Eddy felt nothing. Not even a spark.
With a swift, cold motion, he shoved her away. Jeannette crashed to the floor, pain shooting up her side as she cried out in shock.
Suddenly, the villa door burst open. Two medical staff in white coats strode in. “Mr. Simmons!” they called in unison.
Dread swept over Jeannette like a tidal wave. She crawled to Eddy’s feet, clutching his pant leg, voice high with terror. “Please, Eddy!”
But it was already too late.
His voice was devoid of warmth, colder than frost. “Take her to surgery. She mocked my wife for losing a healthy child and nearly drove her to a heart attack. She doesn’t deserve to bear another life.”
Chapter 148
