Chapter 2
As soon as we entered the bedroom, Adrian expertly grabbed the medicine box and found the ointment he needed to apply.
His fingers were long and pale, without a single callus. The pads of his fingers were warm, and every time he applied the ointment, there was always a tenderness and care in his touch.
He would appreciate all I did, and I offered it willingly.
I watched him carefully squeeze out the ointment, his profile so strikingly handsome that, just from the side of his face, you could tell he was a favorite of the gods.
At our wedding, I had received plenty of
jealous glances from other women, and there were even some scheming types who tried to get close to him. But he had always maintained his boundaries–no woman had ever gotten close to him in college, and most of his assistants at the company were men.
He was so careful to protect his reputation, so the fact that he took Yuna in must have been just his way of repaying a debt of gratitude. After all, his mentor had been instrumental in the founding of his company.
I was still making excuses for him when, suddenly, a pitiful, distressed scream came from the guest bedroom.
Before I could even process it, Adrian had dropped the ointment and rushed out in a panic, with me following closely behind
In the living room, Yuna stood there, holding
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hospital now,” he said urgently.
I looked at Adrian, almost pleading.
He should understand me. I would never resort to such a malicious tactic to harm someone. Even if something went wrong, I would have confronted it face–to–face and found a way to resolve it.
But Adrian looked at me, disappointment etched across his face. “Hazel, how did you become so cruel?”
He called me by my full name–he was genuinely angry.
My attempts to explain felt weak and futile in front of two people who refused to believe
- me.
The two of them, holding Yuna, rushed
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toward the hospital.
I wanted to go too. I needed to understand what happened with that needle–I needed clarity.
“Since you’re saying I did it, there must be my fingerprints on the needle. Why don’t we call the police and have them check?”
“What’s wrong with you? Are you still tring to mess around? Hazel, with your education, how could you not know to wear gloves when you’re doing things like this? Stop playing the victim here.” Adrian’s eyes were full of disgust.
He ordered me to stay home and wait. If harmful substances were found on the needle, he wouldn’t let me off easily.
Our son, with his toy knife, jabbed it
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forcefully into my chest. “You’re not allowed to hurt my Aunt Yuna.”
The ones who once promised to protect me were now all standing by Yuna’s side.
And the “victim“, standing there pale and pitiful, spoke up. “I shouldn’t have come to stay here. Whether or not anything happened, I won’t call the police. Mrs. Watson, I’m sorry.”
“Yuna, you don’t have to apologize. I was the one who invited you” Adrian immediately rushed to comfort her.
Watching them, it felt like a heavy weight on my chest, suffocating me.
As they left, I caught a glimpse of Yuna’s triumphant smile.
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This was a blatant frame–up.
But my son and husband both stood with her, their trust unwavering.
My heart tore open, a raw and bloody wound, as I struggled to breathe, leaning against the table, gasping for air.
I had a history of myocardial ischemia, though it wasn’t serious. When it was first diagnosed, some medication helped.
But today, I felt it returning.
I quickly pulled out my phone and called Adrian.
Before I could even get two rings in, he hung up.
A cold shiver ran through me, but the will to
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survive made me call again.
After three hang–ups, he finally answered.
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