Then came a flurry of accusatory messages.
[Chester]: As a mother, don’t you think you’re going too far?
[Chester]: Raymond just wants some of your homemade soup.
Chester even sent a photo.
The little boy lay in bed, his face flushed an alarming shade of red.
His brow was furrowed tight, and he looked utterly miserable.
Celestine’s heart clenched.
She stared at the photo for a long time.
In the end, she forced herself to fight back her worry and guilt, pressed her finger to the photo, and deleted it.
After sending Chester a brief reply, she exited the chat without hesitation.
At the hospital-
Chester saw Celestine’s message after three days of silence, and his eyes darkened with frustration.
She had vanished for three whole days, and when she finally replied, it was with a detached, “I’m not a doctor. If he wants chicken soup while he’s sick, have the chef make it for him in advance.”
Did she really think she could brush this off with just one dismissive sentence?
His anger barely contained, Chester called her.
“Celestine, where are you?”
“At home.”
Chester was silent.
The staff had watched the house for three days–she hadn’t come back even once!
Lies, all of it!
His anger burned hotter. “Do you even care about this family? Do you remember you’re Raymond’s mother? He’s had a high fever for three days, and you haven’t shown your face once! I’ve never seen a mother so heartless!”
21:121
Chapter 27
“Mr. Fordham, I’m not a doctor.” Celestine’s voice was calm. Why don’t you ask your son if it’s true–if he really said he hates me and never wants to see me again Chester frowned. “He’s a child! How could you take his words at face value? Don’t you realize his condition got worse because of you?”
Raymond’s fever had struck hard and fast.
In these three days at the hospital, the doctors had tried everything. The moment he showed slight improvement, the fever would spike even higher.
Until one night, when Chester’s assistant had come by to drop off documents and happened to catch Raymond sneaking into the bathroom for a cold shower while everyone else was asleep. That’s when things had gone from bad to worse.
Chester wanted to demand why he’d done something so reckless.
But looking at his son, burning up in bed, he just couldn’t bring himself to be harsh.
All Raymond could say was, “Mommy…”
Joanna had tried to hold him back. “Raymond just misses his mother. Celly is still their mom, no matter how busy she is. A child shouldn’t have to go through this alone…”
Yes, it all came back to Celestine. If she hadn’t been acting so strangely lately, Raymond wouldn’t be so insecure.
He wouldn’t have thought up such desperate ways to get attention, like taking cold showers in the middle of the night.
Back at her place, Celestine was clearing away the clutter on her desk, trying to calm herself. “Right, I’m the villain–I should stay away from him, so he won’t have even more bad luck.”
Chester’s patience snapped, and his voice turned icy. “You have one hour. Get to the
private hospital.”
“Otherwise, if you don’t want to be Mrs. Fordham anymore, I’ll make that happen.”
Celestine had schemed and fought for years, and everyone knew this marriage was all she cared about.
He was sure she’d understand what he was threatening. But in the next seco actually laughed–a crisp, untroubled sound. “Fine, just don’t keep Miss Sinclair waiting too long.”
she
Chester’s expression shifted, his volce heavy. “Are you really picking now to get jealous over nothing?”
He had been busy with work lately, he admitted that. Maybe he’d neglected her a little.
During their time in Portside, Joanna had taken the initiative to look after the kids, getting closer to them.
But that was no excuse for Celestine to cause such a scene.
“Celestine, stop being unreasonable. Be sensible for once–remember your place. It’ll do you good.” His tone was dark and low.
Celestine felt that familiar tightness in her chest, frustration rising again.
She was quietly relieved that she had already submitted her design drafts.
“Are you finished?” she asked.
“Hm?”
“I’m not going to see him, so don’t waste your precious time. Go back to work.”
Without another word, Celestine hung up.
When Chester called again, practically seething with anger, she blocked his number without hesitation.
The pressure inside her chest finally eased.
Among the sea of unread messages, Celestine noticed a new, unfamiliar conversation.
[X]: I want some soup.
