Chapter 230
Blanche was battered, exhausted, and had spent the entire day on the run. Every muscle ached, her eyelids felt too heavy to lift. But when he touched her, the scent of cedar and lingering smoke filled her senses, and her stomach lurched violently.
She forced her bloodshot eyes open, only to find Eddy’s face drawing closer and closer. In an instant, clarity snapped back. Realizing what he was about to do, she shoved him away with all the strength she could muster, thrashing wildly. “Let me go, Eddy!”
But she knew all too well the brute strength–and the stubbornness–of the man
before her.
Desperation flared. Blanche kicked him hard where it hurt most. As he doubled over in pain, she seized the chance to wriggle out of his arms and tumble to the floor.
She scrambled to her feet, but Eddy was already there, arms wrapping around her again. “Darling, you’re trying to kill your own husband.”
Every time he touched her, a wave of nausea crashed over her, making her want to
retch.
“Stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” Blanche turned her head, pressing her hand over her mouth, desperate not to see him, not to breathe in his
scent.
“Sweetheart…” Eddy’s voice trembled with worry. “Are you sick? Let me take you to
a doctor.”
She shot him an icy glare, her words sharp as glass. “You make me sick!”
Eddy flinched as if struck. “Is it… is it the smoke?”
He seemed genuinely baffled. “Darling, I swear, I’ll never smoke again.”
Blanche almost laughed at the absurdity. “It’s you. You’re what makes me sick!”
“Eddy-”
“We’re divorced. Stop chasing after me.
He looked at her, pleading. “Please… Healy’s here. He really misses you. Won’t you come see him, just for a minute?”
The name–Healy Simmons–unleashed a torrent of memories. Her first instinct
was relief: Thank God her mother had survived. As for Healy, all she owed him now
1/3
16:11
was a mother’s duty–nothing more.
She couldn’t stand the way Eddy gazed at her, all wounded devotion. It was unbearable. “Don’t call me your wife.”
“If you ever barge into my room again, I won’t let you off so easily!”
Eddy took a step forward, and Blanche, clutching her mouth, doubled over, retching. Tears spilled from her eyes.
He froze, afraid to push her any further. “Darling…”
The word was like a slap. She shot him a look of pure contempt.
Eddy’s pride was legendary, but with her, he always caved. And right now, he knew he couldn’t force her to leave.
He tossed two sheets of paper onto the bed, opened the door, and walked out.
But the head bodyguard was still stationed outside. “Ma’am, Ablett got Leda pregnant and abandoned her. She ended up in the ER with a ruptured fallopian tube–almost died.”
“He never took responsibility. Never cared for her.”
“Sir doesn’t want you with a man like that.
“These are Leda’s pregnancy and surgery records.” The guard handed over the documents, and from the hallway came Eddy’s somber voice.
“He’s not a good man.”
“Even if he were, I’d still let go,” Blanche shot back.
Let go? As if he ever could. She would always be his wife.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Leda at the hospital yourself.” With that, Eddy signaled the guards and left, presumably before Ablett could return.
“Dad, isn’t Mom coming back?” Healy’s anxious voice caught Eddy in the hallway.
Eddy gave Healy a cold glance, his eyes full of irritation. He retreated to his study, grabbed his phone, and dialed. “My wife might be suffering from post–traumatic
stress.”
“Come to Capitol City immediately.”
On the other end, Mrs. Smith gasped. “Mr. Simmons, you found your wife?”
“And the child…” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
16:11 1
Chapter 230
Dr. Smith cut her off. “Mr. Simmons, I’ll catch the first flight out tomorrow.”
Eddy found it strange–shouldn’t Mrs. Smith be happy he’d found his wife? Child? What child?
After Eddy left, it took Blanche a long while to steady herself.
Whatever Ablett had done–past, present, or future–none of it mattered to her now.
Still, she picked up the reports.
Freshly printed, but dated thirteen years ago.
Blanche opened her laptop, typed in the details, and immediately pulled up the hospital’s original records.
She sank to her knees on the carpet. It was all true–emergency surgery for a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Leda had barely survived.
But then-
One line flashed like a neon warning, burning into her eyes.
Bilateral fallopian tube damage–permanently infertile.
