When she woke up, the pristine white ceiling of the hospital greeted her. She rolled her eyes numbly, her sore eyes no longer able to shed tears — perhaps they had dried up at that wedding five years ago.
While she was still dazed, Soren pushed the door open, holding a tube of burn ointment. Seeing Linnea awake, he stepped forward, tossed the ointment onto her, and said in a deep voice, “I was too impulsive yesterday, but you also scared Agatha, so let’s write it off. I’ve hired the best plastic surgeon for you. It won’t leave scars.”
He knew Linnea was obsessed with beauty; in the past, even a small cut on her face would have her crying for three days. To find her the best scar-removing ointment, Soren had scoured the city, using his connections to obtain special foreign medication. But now she was covered in burns, her left cheek bandaged, her expression blank.
Seeing her like this, Soren suddenly felt a flicker of fear. He reached out, wanting to touch her, but she trembled reflexively and said, “I was wrong. Don’t touch me! Soren, I was wrong. I deserve to die!”
He froze, anger slowly rising. “Okay, if you still want to act, then do it on your own!” He slammed the door and left, throwing the ointment against the wall so hard it left a deep dent. Whatever miracle ointment he had found never reached Linnea’s face.
After he left, a nurse came in, frowning as she shoved the medical records into Linnea’s hands. “Miss Carrington, you really can’t put off treatment any longer! You’re still so young. If your family knew, wouldn’t they be heartbroken?”
Linnea’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed, and she nearly cried. How devastated would her mother be if she knew?
After a long silence, she called the mental hospital. “Hello, how is Ms. Isabel Carrington doing? I’m her daughter. Can I visit her now?”
“Isabel?” the person on the other end asked doubtfully. “Didn’t her daughter just come to pick her up? Her name is… Agatha!”
The taut string in Linnea’s mind snapped. She yanked out her IV and stumbled out.
As soon as she got out of the car, she saw Agatha holding her mother’s hand, smiling as she led her into a café. “Mom!” Linnea screamed, rushing forward and pulling her mother behind her. Her chest heaved violently, tears streaming from fear. “Agatha, what did you do to my mother! Why… Soren is already yours — why won’t you let me go? You won’t even let my mother go!”
Isabel Carrington, Linnea's mother, trembled with fear, clutching her sleeve tightly. “Linnea, I’m scared… Linnea…”
Agatha sneered, not bothering to play the sweet, obedient act. “Linnea, you’re the one who murdered Soren’s sister, so why have you stayed by his side for five years? The place by his side belongs only to me! I advise you to leave immediately, or else next time it won’t be as simple as taking Aunt Isabel out for coffee.”
She raised her cup and pretended to pour it over Isabel. Linnea grabbed her hand, rage stripping her of reason, and slapped Agatha across the face.
“Soren, help!”
Hurried footsteps followed, and Soren appeared, his expression dark. He kicked Linnea in the chest, sending her sprawling. Scalding coffee splashed over her, the unhealed burns cracking open again as she grit her teeth in pain.
Before she could react, Agatha buried herself in Soren’s arms, sobbing. “Soren, you burned Aunt Isabel’s piano for me yesterday. I felt so bad, so I came to apologize to her… I didn’t expect Miss Carrington to scold me the moment she saw me. I just said a few words back, and she hit me! Soren, did I do something wrong… why does Miss Carrington hate me so much?”
Soren’s eyes burned red with heartache, but when they turned to Linnea, they held no warmth. He strode over and said coldly, “Apologize to Agatha!”
Linnea pushed herself up. “Why don’t you ask your Agatha what she did! Soren, she tried to hurt my mother—”
The slap came before she could finish. “I said, apologize to Agatha!” The strength of his years of training split her lip, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.
People had begun to gather, pointing and whispering. “What’s wrong with this woman? She hit someone and refuses to apologize?” “Isn’t that Sir Soren? The woman beside him must be Linnea, the wife he’s secretly doted on for years.” “She’s so arrogant! Doesn’t she know Sir Soren dotes on Miss Agatha? And she still dares to seduce him? Serves her right!”
Ironically, she was Linnea — Soren’s legitimate wife. She forced a bitter smile, holding back her tears. “I! Won’t! Apologize!”
Maybe it was the thought of death that gave her courage, but the regret hit instantly when he said, “Okay, since you won’t apologize, I think Aunt Isabel will be happy to pay the price for her daughter’s misdeeds, right?” He made a call, his voice cold. “Notify the mental hospital that Isabel’s special medication will be discontinued from today.”
“No!” Linnea trembled, grabbing his hand. “I’ll apologize to Agatha. Please don’t stop my mother’s medication. Don’t—”
“Kneel down,” he cut her off, lips curling in cruelty. “You have one chance. If you don’t kneel now…”
She no longer dared to hesitate. She knelt before Agatha, bowing repeatedly. “Miss Agatha, I was wrong. Miss Agatha, I was wrong!” Her voice grew louder with each repetition until it tore at her throat, blood seeping from her scalp where it met the floor.
Only then did Agatha feign magnanimity, helping her up. “Soren, I want to go shopping. Let’s go.”
Soren bent down, picked her up, and said gently, “As you wish, little ancestor.”
Those three words pierced Linnea’s heart like a blade; once, they had belonged only to her.
When they were gone, she numbly helped her mother up, but Isabel shoved her away, squatting and sobbing. “You’re not Linnea, you’re not my daughter! Where is my Linnea? I want to find her.”
She was having a seizure, refusing Linnea’s touch. Soon, a foul-smelling stain spread beneath her — she had lost control of her bladder.
Linnea stood frozen, blood running cold. Her once-elegant mother, who would spend hours picking the perfect perfume, had just humiliated herself in public.
With everyone staring, Linnea fought back tears and dragged her mother step by step back to the mental hospital. After changing her clothes and coaxing her to sleep, she collapsed on the floor, biting her hand to stifle her sobs. “I’m sorry, Mom… I’m sorry.”
