Veronica’s eyes drifted past Heath’s face with practiced indifference. She wasn’t surprised to see him
here.
“Didn’t you already know?” she said as she put away her phone.
Heath’s expression darkened. “If you’re sick, why didn’t you say anything?”
When he saw her struggling to lift her IV drip, Heath stepped forward to help.
But Veronica turned her body, avoiding him. Calmly, she removed the needle from her arm.
“No need for your concern, Mr. Tate. I know how to take care of myself. If I’m sick, I know how to find a doctor.”
When she had the flu, her whole body ached so badly that she couldn’t even get out of bed. In the middle of one particularly awful night, she had broken down and texted him.
His reply was burned into her memory. “If you’re sick, go to a hospital. I’m not your doctor, am I?”
Heath vaguely remembered she had mentioned something like this before, though he hadn’t expected it to have been this serious.
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Veronica… are you angry with me?”
Just then, Samuel and Miriam heard a noise from the hallway and came rushing out.
The moment they saw Veronica standing there in a hospital gown, both froze in shock. “Mom? You… you’re sick?”
Samuel hadn’t seen her in a while. His joy quickly turned into panic as he rushed forward and grabbed her hand. He might have resented her strictness, but seeing her unwell unsettled him deeply.
Miriam stood stunned at the threshold. Her voice was barely a whisper as she said, “Mom… you’re sick? Did it happen because I said those horrible things just now? No… no, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want this.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, and her shoulders trembled.
Veronica didn’t embrace her. Instead, she replied with a calm, detached tone, “Yeah. Thanks to you, I ended up seriously ill in bed. But unfortunately, I didn’t die.”
Both Miriam’s and Samuel’s eyes welled up with tears instantly.
Before they could respond, an urgent female voice called from inside the room, “Sam? Mira? What’s wrong?”
Eleanor stumbled out of bed in a panic and rushed toward the doorway. But just as she reached it, her ” illness” caught up with her, and she nearly collapsed right there.
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“Ms. Turner!” Samuel and Miriam cried out in unison.
They didn’t hesitate. They ran straight past Veronica and into Eleanor’s arms.
Being the closest to her, Heath caught her in his arms without hesitation.
“You should be resting,” he said with a deep frown. His voice was stern, but his concern was evident.
“I’m okay. I just heard the kids and got worried,” Eleanor murmured, embarrassed.
Veronica stared at the scene before her–Heath holding Eleanor, and the children surrounding her.
The ache in her chest pressed harder and deeper until it felt unbearable.
Love and indifference… the difference between the two was as plain as day.
She had once been blind enough not to see it.
It wasn’t until that moment that Eleanor seemed to notice Veronica standing nearby. She blinked, feigning surprise. “Veronica? You’re here too? I thought last night you were-”
Her words were cut off abruptly by Heath’s cold voice. He said flatly, “Veronica, care to explain why your clothes were laced with mugwort?”
“That’s right, Mom! Ms. Turner almost died just from wearing your clothes!” Miriam’s voice rang out again,
full of righteous fury.
Even if Veronica was sick, it was her own fault for not taking care of herself. She had it coming.
But Eleanor’s illness was on Veronica.
Veronica quietly dabbed at the needle mark on her hand with a cotton swab. “Because of you two. You said you loved the scent on my clothes, so I had every piece treated with mugwort just for you.”
She paused, looking at Heath. “Mr. Tate, didn’t you notice it too? Or have you gotten so used to another scent that this one slipped your mind?”
Perhaps the kids were too young to remember the smell, but Heath–her husband -had no excuse. The fact that he had forgotten something so simple was bitterly ironic.
Heath’s expression darkened.
After a long silence, he said flatly, “Whatever the reason, Eleanor got sick because of you. Send the painting your grandfather gave you as a wedding gift to her as an apology. Say you’re sorry, and we’ll put
this behind us.”
“Heath, what gives you the right to demand that?” Veronica’s voice turned sharp, her hand clenching tight.
Her grandfather had been a revered scholar of Mycenarian Studies, and the painting “Mountains of Solace
was the masterpiece he spent ten years creating as her wedding gift.
Because the frame was too large, she had left it at the Tate residence when she moved out.
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Eleanor had hinted before that she wanted to borrow it for a period drama she was working on.
Even when Veronica had loved Heath without her dignity, she had never once agreed to part with that
painting.
Now, Heath was using this incident to force her hand.
Eleanor was inwardly elated, but on the surface, she pretended to compromise with a sigh of reluctant
generosity. “Veronica, if that painting means so much to you, think of it as a loan. I’ll return it once filming’s over.”
Heath brushed it off. “It’s just a painting. I’ll have someone deliver it to the set tomorrow. Grandpa won’t
mind. I’ll explain it to him.”
Veronica clenched her teeth in anger. “Heath, how dare you use my things to buy favors for someone
else?”
Heath’s dark and unreadable gaze held hers. “Veronica, don’t be unreasonable.”
“Mom, Ms. Turner said if you make a mistake, you should make it right! Even if that was your pajamas,
you still have to take responsibility!” Samuel added in a stern voice.
Veronica let out a bitter laugh. “So if I poison a rat and a stray dog eats it and dies, that’s still my fault?”
Samuel fell silent. He remembered begging Veronica to use that scent because he and Miriam liked it. He
couldn’t help but wonder if that made them the rats in the analogy.
In an instant, Miriam lashed out like a wild beast. She shoved the already weakened Veronica hard and
screamed, “You’re so cruel! Stay away from Ms. Turner. Don’t come near us again.”
Veronica hadn’t expected it. Her body was still weak, and the shove sent her stumbling back.
A tiny warm hand caught her just in time, steadying her.
Wanda peeked out from behind her with a curious tilt of the head. She blinked, eyes wide in shock. “Ms. Pretty, are you the other woman?”
Then, she continued, “My dad says only the other woman gets hated by the real wife’s kids. Real kids love their mom and protect her no matter what. If a dad has a side chick, then he’s just like toxic waste in a
trash bin!”
The moment Wanda spoke, the expressions on the four faces across from her shifted sharply.
Veronica gave a cold, self–deprecating smile. “I’m his wife, the real one.”
“What?” Wanda gasped, eyes wide.
She pointed at Miriam and Samuel. “Then… does that mean they’re bastards?”
“You shut up! You’re the bastard here!” Miriam snapped before lunging at her.
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But this time, Veronica was ready. She caught Miriam’s wrist mid–motion, her voice steady but stern.” Who taught you to be so disrespectful, Miriam?”
Miriam instantly burst into tears. “Mom, you’re taking her side. You don’t love me anymore.”
Wanda blinked innocently. “But you were just taking that lady’s side. You didn’t defend your own mom
either. Doesn’t that mean you don’t love her?”
Miriam froze, stunned into silence. Her words got caught in her throat, and she shot Wanda a fierce glare.
“Mind your own business! She’s my mom!”
Samuel chimed in, “Ms. Turner got sick wearing Mom’s pajamas. That makes it Mom’s fault. We’re siding with what’s right.”
Wanda nodded dramatically and dragged a finger across her throat. “So your mom forced that lady to
wear those pajamas? Like, she’ll end her if she doesn’t wear it?”
The twins looked at each other, stunned. That… wasn’t quite what happened.
Samuel mumbled, “Ms. Turner asked to wear it. She said it herself.”
– A flicker of irritation passed over Eleanor’s face.
Wanda clasped her hands behind her back and mimicked an adult’s tone. “Oh, so she’s the other woman.”
Veronica couldn’t hold back a soft laugh.
Wanda was speaking up for her.
“That’s enough.” Heath’s voice finally cut through the chaos.
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