Chapter 4

Bridget's tears fell onto the back of my hand.

All these years, Wayne had kept his focus entirely on Sylvia.

He had never once cared about his mother's condition.

He didn't even know she was this ill.

The man lifted his foot and walked, step by step, over to his mother.

His eyes still held a faint trace of red.

He looked up at her and said earnestly:

"Mom, why are even you joining in her nonsense too?"

"I know you've never liked Sylvia, so I've never let her come around."

"She's just sick and came to see a doctor. Are you really going to take even that little bit of freedom away from her?"

Bridget's face went ashen with anger.

The other doctors nearby quickly stepped forward to explain:

"Mr. Gilbert, her injuries are all minor, but your mother's illness truly can't wait any longer!"

In an instant his gaze darkened, and he snapped his head up to look at the girl.

He said nothing, but the viciousness in his eyes didn't fade one bit.

It frightened everyone into scattering, no one daring to say a word.

The next second, he stood up, turned to me, and said:

"Tilda Simmons, I gave you the hospital as a gift, not so you could do whatever you want!"

"Now you're even lying to my mother. Are you really this jealous?"

"And arrange surgery for Sylvia right now! I know my mother's health very well; she's only playing along with your nonsense."

I'd already made it perfectly clear on the phone.

Sylvia and his mother—he had to choose which one lived.

It was obvious. He chose Sylvia.

Smiling, I set the surgical consent form in front of him and said coldly:

"Sign it."

He stared at the line that read "Family Consent" and suddenly froze.

Frowning, he looked up at me again:

"Tilda Simmons, your jealousy has gone this far!"

"You'd even push away the position of a wife? Is it so shameful to be my woman, Wayne Gilbert's woman?"

I said nothing.

For all his talk, he still signed his name on it.

I looked at Bridget with pity.

The next second, Bridget bent over and spat out a mouthful of bright red blood.

Everyone froze.

I gripped the edge of the bed tightly, as if aching for her.

The other doctors immediately rushed over and began giving Bridget some basic first aid.

Wayne, standing off to the side, only watched coldly.

Sylvia, meanwhile, turned and buried herself in his arms, crying and sobbing, as if she were terrified.

"Wayne, it's blood, I'm so scared."

"Isn't it some prank prop Tilda brought just to scare me?"

The fear on Wayne's face vanished, replaced by a cold sneer:

"Tilda, do you really think we're stupid? This is obviously stage blood!"

He let out another impatient sigh:

"Mom, do you really have to come make trouble together with this woman?"

"I've got things to handle at the company. I don't have time to play house with you two."

"And," he turned to look at me, saying each word slowly, "Tilda, I'm giving you one last chance—apologize to Sylvia!"

"Otherwise, I'll tell the police officers every mistake your father ever made and make sure he rots in prison for the rest of his life!"

The moment he said it, my eyes went red.

Had he forgotten that my father died last year?

My lips parted slightly, but before I could get a word out—

An anxious voice came from behind.

"It's bad! It's bad!"

"Dr. Simmons, your mother-in-law's heart has completely failed. She'll probably be dead within ten minutes!"