Eddy pushed open the hospital room door and stopped short at the scene inside.
He strode forward and gathered the heartbroken Blanche into his arms, murmuring softly in her ear, “Honey, thank God you’re alright.”
When he spoke of the child, his voice caught. “We still have Healy, he managed, tears thickening his words.
But Blanche, shivering with revulsion at his touch, froze at the mention of Healy’s name. A chill crept up her spine. She pushed Eddy away without a word and lay back down, staring at the ceiling.
“Mr. Simmons, your wife is very weak. She needs rest,” Sophie explained gently on Blanche’s behalf.
“Please step outside for now,” Eddy told her.
Sophie gave Blanche a sympathetic glance, then quietly left, closing the door
behind her.
Eddy tucked the blanket carefully around Blanche and took her cold, papery hand in his. “Honey, don’t pay any mind to what Healy said just now. I’ve already dealt with the person who put those ideas in his head.”
“It was some crazy woman who’s always hanging around Lara.”
“People like that–any child raised by her–the Simmons family won’t take in.”
“Jeannette won’t be showing up in your life again, either.”
He had made up his mind: no more seeing Jeannette, no more seeing Lara. He was cutting all ties. Anyone who hurt his wife would pay.
Blanche pulled her hand from his grasp, her eyes empty and dull as she stared at
him.
She didn’t believe a single word.
“Honey, Healy wants to see you.” Eddy faltered under her gaze, guilt prickling at him. He told himself the trauma of losing the baby had simply hit Blanche too hard, but with time, surely she would heal.
Just then, Healy pushed the door open and hurried to the bedside, dropping to his knees. Tears streamed down his small face. “Mom, I’m sorry.”
“I know I was wrong,” he sobbed, his voice trembling with guilt. “Falling down hurt
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Chapter 95
so much, and I don’t want you to ever fall, Mom.”
The raw, childish sorrow in his voice tightened something in Blanche’s chest. Tears stung her eyes as she reached out to brush her hand over the side of Healy’s face. “I forgive you,” she whispered.
“Mom!” Healy buried his face in her arms and wept, his little shoulders shaking.
But Blanche’s heart had gone numb. She felt like she was suffocating, unable to
breathe.
This was the last time. There would never be a next time.
Once she left, she would never see this son again. She would pretend he had never
even been born.
Two days later.
On the day Blanche was discharged, it happened to be a Sunday–Terrell’s birthday party popped into her mind.
She told the butler and Vesta, who had come to pick her up, to head home without her. Stopping by a toy store, she picked out a flashy Transformer as a gift and made her way to the party.
The event was held in Ballroom A on the first floor of the Summit Grand Hotel.
The place was swarming with politicians and society elites; even as the wife of the Simmons Group’s CEO, Blanche recognized only a few faces. The atmosphere was formal and intimidating.
She wondered if she’d wandered into the wrong hall and was about to ask for the manager when a small figure hurtled into her arms, hugging her tightly. A young, eager voice piped up, “You’re finally here, pretty lady!“.
“Sorry I’m late,” Blanche smiled, handing him the gift box. “Happy birthday, Terrell.”
“Thank you, Auntie!” Terrell grabbed the box and clung to her hand, refusing to let go. “Pretty lady, let me introduce you to my dad. His room is covered with paintings of you–he even calls your name in his sleep!”
“Once, he got so drunk that he hugged Miss Rose and kept kissing her because he thought she was you.”
“My dad is head over heels in love with you.”
“I want to surprise him today–come with me!”
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Blanche’s eyes widened, goosebumps prickling her skin.
She had no idea who this man was supposed to be.
Terrell was such a brave, good kid–how did he end up with such a bizarre father?
Blanche tried to politely decline, but Terrell was already waving enthusiastically across the room. “Dad! Dad, over here! The pretty lady’s here–I want her to be my
mom!”
A tall man in a sharp suit was striding toward them.
Panic rose in Blanche’s chest. She yanked her hand free and backed away, stammering, “No, that’s really not necessary…”
She’d barely taken a few steps when the man blocked her path. His voice, cool and unyielding, sounded from above her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
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