Chapter 2

I finished the entire bottle of wine in one go.

My empty stomach was abruptly filled, and a wave of nausea overwhelmed me.

Covering my mouth, I hurried out of the private room.

Behind me, Sophie pouted and said playfully, "Mr. Grant, aren't you going to check on your wife? She might be pregnant."

Harrison joked in response, "If it were you, I'd host a celebration. But her? I have no interest."

I had feelings, too.

No matter how many times I heard stuff like that, it still stung.

I rushed into the restroom, clung to the toilet, and vomited until my world spun.

Just as I wobbled to my feet, someone approached.

It was Victor Blake, Harrison's sworn enemy.

He teased, "Harrison treasures you like the apple of his eye. How could he bear to let you come to a place like this?"

His hand rested on my waist, stroking slowly.

I felt the urge to vomit again.

I tried to push him away, but my dizziness was so severe that I could not muster any strength.

Through the haze, I heard a furious roar from what seemed like a great distance.

"Victor, who are you to touch her? You've got some fucking nerve!" Harrison charged over and kicked Victor to the floor.

Harrison was powerful and well-connected.

He had countless ways to ruin Victor slowly.

But instead, he chose to use his own hands, employing the most primitive and direct method.

Each punch landed with brutal force. He didn't bother defending himself.

He just attacked with a reckless, life-risking ferocity.

I collapsed on the floor, clutching my head, wanting to tell him to stop.

But my head hurt like hell.

It was as if a machine were relentlessly drilling into my skull.

Just then, Sophie burst in and cried, "Stop! Please, stop fighting.

"Mr. Grant, Mr. Blake didn't hurt me last time. I'm fine. Please, stop!"

So it was all for her.

Then, I understood why Harrison had flown into such a rage.

I knew it could never have been for me.

Harrison had stopped loving me long ago.

One of Victor's buddies lunged forward with a beer bottle, but Sophie swiftly blocked it with her arm.

A loud crash followed, glass shattering everywhere, mingled with Sophie's blood.

Harrison was freaked out and worried sick. "Why were you thinking? I could have handled it myself. Why did you shield me?"

Sophie, delicate and pampered, cried out in pain. "I just didn't want you to get hurt. Mr. Grant, it hurts so much."

Harrison scooped her up in his arms. "We're going to the hospital."

The word "hospital" woke me up.

I could not die yet.

Grandpa was still lying in a hospital bed.

He was waiting for me to visit him.

A fierce will to survive made me clutch desperately at Harrison's pant leg.

Gritting my teeth, I managed to force out a few words. "Harrison, my head hurts."

Harrison was holding Sophie in his arms.

He looked down at me, his gaze icy.

He said, "If you're sick, go see a doctor. Don't come here making me sick.

"Don't look at me like that. Stop pretending you still love me. It's utterly disgusting."

He yanked his leg away, shaking my hand off.

I heard Sophie weeping in his embrace. "Mr. Grant, will there be a scar? Scars are ugly. I really don't want one."

I also heard Harrison comforting her patiently, his voice so tender and gentle.

He murmured, "There won't be. I'll find the best doctor and use the best medicine. No scar will remain.

"Sweetheart, just close your eyes and rest. When you wake up, everything will be alright."

He used to call me "sweetheart," too, but now, he ignored me.

I was in so much pain.

And I felt like I was about to die.