Chapter 4

During this period, I could hardly close my eyes.

I was afraid of the night, afraid of sleep, afraid of my mother's face fading away in my dreams.

I desperately tried to grab her hand, but it was in vain.

"Mom, don't go."

I don't know how many times I woke up, tears already wetting my pillow.

Outside the window, it was pitch black, with dark clouds covering the moon, as if a heavy rain was about to come.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Without even bothering to put on shoes, I ran barefoot to the living room.

Ruth held the keys to the house, appearing like a mistress.

When she saw me, she smiled and approached me with a gaze full of hostility,

"Anna, I'm pregnant with Mr. Paige's child. Soon, Mrs. Paige's position will be mine. I came here to tell you to pack your things and leave."

Christian has always been sensible when it comes to women; he never gets himself into trouble.

But he has repeatedly indulged Ruth, and her pregnancy must have received his approval.

Perhaps he really loves her.

I calmly responded and quickly passed by her, with only one thought in mind: to go to the hospital and visit my mother.

Ruth grabbed my arm with a rude and arrogant attitude,

"I advise you to take the initiative and divorce him. Otherwise, you'll be kicked out of this house with no dignity."

I turned around and smiled at her gently, saying, "Is it more shameful than being a mistress like you?"

She turned red with anger.

I shook off her hand. With a furrowed brow, she shouted loudly,

"What are you in such a hurry for? Your mother is already dead. There's no one who will stand by your side."

As soon as she finished speaking, my body suddenly felt weak.

"It's impossible. She's lying to me," I repeated to myself over and over again, but my confidence was diminishing.

Rain started pouring outside, cold and piercing as it hit my body. I staggered towards the hospital.

What awaited me was an empty hospital bed, devoid of my mother's kind smile.

I knelt beside the bed where my mother had once laid, crying for a long time.

I don't know when Christian stood behind me and draped his coat over me.

But I no longer needed it.

Angry, I threw the coat aside and slapped him across the face with red eyes, asking him,

"Christian, I've lost everything. Are you happy now?"

He wiped away the blood from his lips with lowered eyes and tightly grabbed my wrist as if warning me,

"Don't make a scene. Come back home with me."

But I no longer had a home.

I looked at the bloodstains on the ground of varying shades, as if reminding me of the hardships I had endured along the way.

With all my strength, I said hoarsely,

"Christian, I'm dying. Why do you still want to torment me?"

I tried my best but couldn't break free from his grip.

He suddenly pushed me to the ground and furrowed his brow as he asked,

"What about Warren? She could have lived happily ever after. Why did you have to kill her?"

A sharp pain in my lower abdomen became unbearable, but I mustered all my strength and said,

"It wasn't me."

Blood continued flowing down my legs, staining the ground red.

This time, there was more blood than ever before.

I had almost no consciousness left as I weakly collapsed on the ground.

"Anna, don't pretend to be sick and deceive me. I won't be lenient," Christian said coldly.

Only when he lowered his head and saw the blood spreading towards his feet did he panic. He clumsily picked me up and rushed to the emergency room.

I don't know how long I slept for.

All I heard were Christian's angry outbursts multiple times; his voice becoming increasingly irritable.

"No matter what method you use, cure her for me. Otherwise, don't let me see you again."

My attending physician lowered his head nervously and became flustered.

"Don't trouble him. It was my decision to give up treatment," I whispered on his behalf.

Upon hearing my voice, Christian quickly walked to the bedside and tightly held my hand with concern,

"You're sick. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

I sighed disappointedly and looked into his eyes,

"You've rarely come back home. Whenever we meet, it's either arguing or giving each other the silent treatment. Have you ever given me a chance?"

In fact, my medical records were right there on the bedside table in our bedroom.

All he had to do was turn around and he would see them.

But he never noticed them.

On countless nights filled with heart-wrenching pain, I dialed his number more than once.

But all I received was a cold message saying "The number you dialed is not available."

Gradually, I stopped placing hope in him and learned to face life's hardships alone.

"I'm tired. Let's get divorced," I said calmly.

A trace of indescribable nervousness flickered deep within Christian's eyes. He stared at me intently with red eyes,

"I disagree. Don't think that just because you die means you're free. Your life belongs to me; I want you to live well."

But once someone falls ill, money alone cannot save them.

My condition has reached an advanced stage; things are very bad.

He just refuses to admit it.