Chapter 2
My consciousness sank little by little into darkness.
I even thought, maybe I should just die like this. I've lost my uterus. I've lost my husband's love. The medicine my parents gave me to save my life was stolen and fed to his mistress. What meaning is left in living?
Just then, a rush of urgent, powerful footsteps approached.
"Claire Shaw! Wake up!" a woman shouted.
The voice was cool, sharp, and full of unquestionable authority. I forced my eyes open. My vision overlapped, split apart, and finally fixed on a familiar, infuriating face. It was Chloe Rivers.
She had been my rival in college, the one who always beat me in professional courses, fought me for scholarships, and even sneered on my wedding day that I had lost my mind. Why was she here?
Chloe wore a white coat washed nearly thin, and the name badge on her chest flashed coldly under the light.
Without a word, she quickly lifted my eyelids and pressed my abdomen. Her movements were skilled and ruthless. When she saw my empty bedside cabinet and ghostly pale face, murderous anger flashed in her eyes.
"Impressive. You really managed to nearly kill yourself," Chloe said with a cold snort. Yet she pulled out her phone at once and strode toward the door.
I heard David and Amy joking and laughing outside. They had probably just delivered the herbs.
Chloe pushed the door open and aimed her phone camera steadily at them.
"Mr. Shaw, it seems your memory is poor," Chloe said. "Your wife was fighting for her life in labor while you gave blood for love next door.
"Now your wife is on the edge of death and urgently needs a second P-type blood supply, yet you're standing here discussing how to make tonic soup?" Her voice was not loud, but every word cut like a blade.
"Who are you? Mind your own business!" Amy shouted, lunging for the phone.
Chloe slipped aside and looked at David with a cold smile. "I also have P-type blood," Chloe said. "Not only that, I'm the doctor in this hospital most confident in handling her later complications."
She turned and looked down at David, who was hiding behind his mother. "You want me to save her? Fine," Chloe said. "David, beg me into this camera.
"For every minute you refuse, I'll go in one minute later. Let's see how many minutes your wife has left."
I leaned against the headboard and watched the video Chloe brought back. In the video, David finally bent down before Chloe, all for his reputation and that laughable pride.
Chloe saved me and kept me alive. But I didn't realize how shameless Amy could get.
Three days later, when I could barely drink a little plain soup, Amy pushed the door open. She carried a thermos, and there was actually a strange smile on her face.
"Claire, I made soup for you," Amy said. "Drink it while it's hot." As she spoke, she opened the lid. The rich scent of tonic herbs mixed with chicken soup spread through the whole ward.
My heart trembled slightly. Did she still have a conscience after all?
Before I could reach out, David came in as well. He did not even glance at me. He took the bowl from his mother and turned to leave.
"Wait," I said weakly, my voice cold. "Wasn't that soup for me?"
David stopped and looked back at me with a frown, impatience written all over his face. "Claire, you can already sit up, which means you're recovering well.
"Emily fainted again just now. The doctor said she's drained and weak. Mom made this soup especially for her. Can't you be sensible and stop being jealous of a patient at a time like this?" David asked.
Amy chimed in, "Exactly! You're sturdy. Plain soup is enough for you. Emily suffered to save my son. You should be grateful."
Right in front of me, they carried the bowl of life-saving soup bought with my parents' love into the next ward.
The soundproofing was poor, so I could hear laughter from next door. David gently blew on the soup while Emily spoke in a sweet, coquettish voice.
After some time, Emily slowly shuffled to my ward door while holding the wall. David had gone to wash the bowl. Amy had gone to pay the bill. The corridor was empty.
Emily wore a silk robe with an expensive, thin scarf around her wrist to cover the wound that had never been deep. She came to my bedside and bent down. A sinister, provocative smile appeared on that pure, pretty face.
She made no sound. She only stared hard into my eyes and slowly moved her lips.
I read her mouth. "Your man and your child will both be mine from now on."
I clutched the quilt so tightly that my nails snapped in the fabric. Fresh blood stained the sheet red. At that moment, I heard the last ember in my heart go out completely.