The ward door burst open.
Startled, Loren sprang away from Arthur’s arms like a frightened rabbit.
Abraham stepped in cautiously, his small face flushed as he cradled a lunch box with both hands.
“Abraham, did you bring this for Mommy?” I asked softly, warmth blooming in my chest despite the pain. I knew he couldn’t cook, but seeing him here, so concerned, still touched me.
To my surprise, Abraham’s expression twisted into a frown.
“It’s not for you,” he muttered. “I bought it for Aunt Loren with my own pocket money.”
My breath caught.
“What did you just say?” My voice trembled—not from weakness, but from anger.
Abraham looked away, face full of irritation—so much like his father’s.
Loren seized the moment and rushed to the bedside, gripping my wrist tightly. “Sister, I’m so glad you’re okay! Does it still hurt? I was so scared... It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t—”
I pulled my hand away and rasped, “Yes, I am hurt. All because of you.”
At that moment, my parents entered the room, their expressions stormy.
My mother frowned. “She’s just worried about you. How can you speak to her like that?”
My father shook his head and sighed. “You’ve always had a difficult personality. If it weren’t for Loren’s patience, who could put up with you?”
Loren’s shoulders quivered as tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked heartbreakingly pitiful. “I’m sorry... It’s all my fault...”
Then, casting one last sorrowful glance at Arthur, she turned and ran out of the ward.
Arthur watched her go with a conflicted gaze. Then, without a word to me, he followed her.
Not even a glance back.
Abraham spun on me, eyes blazing. “Look at you! You’re nothing compared to Aunt Loren! You should’ve divorced Dad a long time ago and let her take your place!”
I stared at him, stunned.
This was the same child I had given up everything for.
When he was born with health issues, I’d quit a promising career and dedicated three years of my life—day and night—to care for him, nourish him, raise him into the healthy boy he was now.
And this was what he had become?
“Abraham!” My mother grabbed his arm in alarm. “Don’t talk nonsense!”
But he wrenched away. “She’s the one who bullies people! No wonder Dad doesn’t want her!”
I turned to the window. The sun was bright outside, but in this room, all I felt was cold.
Abraham pouted as his father disappeared. He tugged at Loren’s mother’s sleeve and whined, “I want to stay with Aunt Loren! I want to buy her candy so she won’t be sad!”
Lin’s mother stroked his head gently. “Alright, we’ll go find her together.”
Before leaving, she looked at me and said, without warmth, “You should rest.”
Then they were gone.
For the next five days, no one visited.
Not my husband, not my son, not even my parents.
I might as well have been invisible.
Alone, I smiled bitterly and pulled out my phone to order takeout.
The delivery man was more considerate than my so-called family. He set up the food neatly, adjusted the bed for me, and even asked if I needed help.
As I ate in silence, I couldn’t help but think: even strangers show more care than those closest to me.
---
The day I was discharged, I didn’t go home.
I went straight to the research institute.
By the time Arthur arrived—still glued to Loren—I had already brought the police with me to gather evidence.
He stormed in, face dark with fury. “She’s your sister, and you called the police?”
“For a good reason,” I said coldly.
“You’re unbelievable! Everyone’s right—you’re just an ungrateful woman!”
I laughed. “If you weren’t guilty, why would you be so nervous? Afraid the truth might come out?”
“Arthur, when Loren tampered with equipment, waste leaked and crucial data was lost. We’ve spent days and nights collecting that research. You’re the institute director—shouldn’t you care more about the team than defending her?”
“I’ll take responsibility for all damages,” he snapped.
“And my injury?” I asked, voice sharp.
“What else do you want from me?” His tone turned cold. “I’ll give you anything—just stop bothering Loren.”
“Anything?” I stared at the man I’d spent seven years with and saw a stranger. “Even your dignity?”
The knife in my hand glinted. I held it out, pressing it against his chest.
“My back is covered in burns. How about you give me a patch of skin as compensation?”
“Fine!” he barked. No hesitation.
Arthur, third-generation heir of the prestigious Slater Family, renowned doctor—ready to do anything for Loren.
My hand trembled. The blade felt like ice in my palm.
Just as I pressed it forward, Loren screamed, “No!”
She flung herself in front of him.
The knife slashed her forearm. Bright blood spilled down her pale skin.
She whimpered in pain, curling in on herself, still shielding him. “Sister, please... don’t...”
Arthur’s face contorted in horror. “Lora, look what you’ve done!”
Loren stumbled back into his arms. He caught her, his hands instantly pressing against the bleeding wound.
Then he looked up at me—and for the first time, I saw real hatred in his eyes.
I shivered.
I turned, fumbling for supplies to stop the bleeding, but he barked, “You think you can hurt her and just walk away?”
Loren’s face was deathly pale, but she tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t blame Sister... she’s just upset... it’s my fault...”
“If anything happens to her,” Arthur snarled, lifting her in his arms, “I’ll make you pay.”
The door slammed behind him with a deafening bang.
