Chapter 2
Shania didn’t expect Jackson to go this far for Katherine Compton.
To pursue her, he didn’t hesitate to hurt his own wife.
In excruciating pain, she was about to speak, but then everything went black and she passed out.
When she woke up again, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head. She struggled to open her eyes and saw a strange ceiling. She couldn’t tell what time it was for a moment.
“Mrs. Pruitt, you’re awake.”
A cold voice sounded.
Shania turned around and saw Katherine standing by the bed, holding a first aid kit in her hand.
She was wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, with her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her face was free of makeup, but
exuded a youthful vibe.
“I’m your caregiver, Katherine,” the girl said calmly but with a hint of detachment. “Even though I’ve moved in, please make sure to manage Mr. Pruitt. If he crosses the line again, I will leave immediately.”
Shania felt a sharp pain in her chest.
How ironic! This little girl moves into her own home, but still has to “manage her own husband” as the lady of the house.
“I need to change caregivers,” Shania croaked.
Katherine seemed to not hear, and took out a syringe by herself, “Now I’ll give you an anti-inflammatory injection.”
The first needle went in, couldn’t find the vein.
The second injection was off target, and a small bump immediately formed on the back of my hand.
The third shot even drew blood directly.
“You couldn’t sew, so let someone else do it,” Shania’s voice trembled with pain.
Upon hearing this, Katherine immediately teared up and defiantly said, “What do you mean? If it weren’t for my grandmother being seriously ill, do you think I would willingly come?”
She said as she reached out to grab Shania’s hand again, this time the needle pierced the skin deeply, and blood flowed
down her fair wrist.
Shania couldn’t bear the pain anymore, she pushed her away abruptly and said, “Enough! Don’t touch me!”
Katherine stumbled backwards, knocked over the medicine tray, and shattered the glass bottle on the floor.
Just then, the door was suddenly pushed open, and Jackson strode in.
“What’s going on?” His gaze shifted between the two of them, finally settling on Katherine, who was sitting on the ground,
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her face pale.
“Since you don’t welcome me, I’m leaving!” Katherine got up with red eyes and was about to rush out.
Jackson grabbed her and said, “Who said that!”
Katherine struggled to shake off his hand, “Your wife! I was just trying to help her with the needle, and she pushed me! I’m just not skilled, didn’t you guys know that from the beginning?”
Jackson immediately looked at Shania’s swollen hand back, a hint of pity flashed in his eyes, but when he turned to
Katherine, it turned into compromise.
“How can I make you stay?” he asked meekly.
Katherine raised her chin and said, “I hate it when rich people act all high and mighty. I want her to apologize to me.”
“Nia,” Jackson turned to Shania, his tone leaving no room for doubt, “apologize.”
Shania looked at him in disbelief, “She made me look like this and she wants me to apologize?”
Jackson’s eyes darkened, “If you’re not willing, think about your parents’ company.”
Shania felt a chill down her spine, “You threatened me for her?!”
“Nia, it’s just an apology,” Jackson impatiently frowned, “It’s not like you’re losing a limb. Are you really going to stand by
and watch your parents’ company go bankrupt?”
At that moment, Shania felt like she was hit by a ton of bricks.
She bit her lower lip hard until she tasted blood.
Seeing Jackson’s expression turning colder, she realized he was serious. She struggled to get up from the bed, enduring
the humiliation, and bowed deeply to Katherine, saying, “I’m sorry.”
Katherine frowned and said, “Do rich people apologize so quietly?”
Shania’s nails dug deep into her palm as she bent over again, raising her voice, “Sorry! Are you happy now?”
After Katherine reluctantly nodded, Jackson finally softened his expression and carefully persuaded her to take the
medicine.
The moment the door closed, Shania couldn’t hold on anymore, she collapsed on the ground, silently crying.
She found a yellowed love letter under the pillow and tremblingly lit it.
When the flames consumed the ninety-sixth page of the love letter, she remembered how sixteen-year-old Jackson looked when he wrote this letter.
Under the cherry blossom tree on the university campus, the boy blushing handed her the letter and said, “Nia, will you be with me? I will treat you well for the rest of my life.”
When the flames were about to burn out, the door suddenly swung open.
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