“I’m going to check on Zeth first. You take a moment to drink some water and calm down.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Grady threw the bottle of water from the table at Marcella.
Even when the bottle hit her forehead, he only spared it a glance before heading straight for the door, his pace completely unaffected.
Marcella couldn’t help but find it ironic.
She had no choice but to steady herself against the bed, get up, and head to the bathroom to freshen up.
When she came out, she saw Grady carefully applying ointment to Zeth’s hand.
Standing beside him, Seth was blowing on Zeth’s hand with a distressed expression, glancing at her face every so often as if afraid his father might be hurting her.
From a distance, Marcella noticed the burn on Zeth’s hand.
It was nothing but a few faint red spots—give it a little time, and the redness would probably fade.
As soon as Marcella stepped out, Seth immediately raised his hands in front of Zeth as if shielding her from harm.
As ir Marcella was some kind of threat.
“Sorry, Marcella, he’s just a kid. Please don’t take it to heart,” Zeth said with a gentle smile.
She reached out and patted Seth’s head, a fleeting glint of satisfaction flashing through her eyes.
It was as if to say, “See? So what if you carried him for 10 months and raised him for five years? In the end, it’s me he wants to protect.”
Grady glanced at Marcella briefly, his brows furrowed.
Then, siding with Zeth and Seth, he said, “Seth was scared by you just now. Don’t hold it against him.”
At that, Seth let out a huff and turned to bury himself in Zeth’s arms.
But within seconds, he lifted his head again.
“Aunt Zeth got burned, Mom. Hurry up! Make us breakfast! Aunt Zeth wants mac and cheese, and Dad and I want—”
Before the boy could finish, Marcella cut him off. “Then make it yourself. Don’t you have hands?”
Five years of devoted care had only earned her disdain and rejection.
This time, she had no intention of giving another ounce of herself to her husband and her son.
Hearing this, Grady frowned, looking at Marcella in confusion.
To him, household chores had always been her responsibility.
Making breakfast was just expected.
Sensing his gaze, Marcella turned to him, her expression unreadable.
It was as if… she were looking at a stranger.
The realization made Grady’s hand tremble slightly as he applied the ointment.
A strange unease settled in his chest, an involuntary urge rising within him to get up and go to her.
Even the slightest movement did not escape Zeth’s notice.
She immediately spoke in a pitiful voice, “It’s nothing, just a little burn. I can make my own food. Seth, Dee, don’t blame Marcella. She probably just isn’t feeling well after throwing up earlier.”
The moment the words left her lips, nausea surged in Marcella’s stomach once again.
She almost wanted to peel off Zeth’s face and see what was really hiding underneath.
Just then, Marcella’s phone rang.
An unfamiliar number was calling.
“Hi, Mrs. Walquist. For ID verification, may we request your household registration book? In addition to that, since you are married and have a child, we also require your marriage certificate.
“We will come to pick you up in a week. Please make the necessary arrangements to say goodbye to your family.”
Upon hearing this, Marcella looked toward her husband and their son.
One on the left and one on the right—both standing beside Zeth… as if they were the real family.
“Thank you. I’ll have everything ready.”
Hanging up, Marcella didn’t spare the three another glance.
She turned and walked straight to the study.
Their marriage certificate was there.
