Chapter 2

"If the money's not enough, I can add more. You can't leave."

Meeting my reddened eyes, Derek said frantically:

"Vivian's pregnant again. She needs someone to make her nutritious meals."

His words made me laugh.

I had been forcibly injected with large amounts of hormones by Vivian in the past, which damaged my reproductive system.

He had promised me with tears in his eyes that he would make sure Vivian could never have children.

Now, she was pregnant again.

I only remembered that last time, when Vivian miscarried because I gave her the wrong medication, I was stripped naked and locked in the morgue for eight hours, developing severe hypothermia.

Seeing that I didn't respond and just kept walking, Derek tried to make me stay for the first time ever.

"I know you don't like bland food. After Vivian finishes eating, I can take you out to eat."

As soon as he finished speaking, Vivian in his arms suddenly curled up and clung to him.

"Derek, my stomach hurts..."

Derek's expression instantly became frantic. He swept Vivian up in his arms and barked an order at me to call the family doctor.

I obediently dialed the number. While he was taking care of Vivian, I turned to leave, but Derek grabbed my wrist and scolded me sharply:

"Vivian's in this condition and you still want to leave? How can you be so vicious?"

Me, vicious? I laughed bitterly.

"If I were vicious, I wouldn't have called the doctor for her."

Next thing I knew, he yanked me down to my knees.

"Apologize!"

My knees slammed hard onto the marble floor, and my ankle twisted at a grotesque angle.

I didn't make a sound.

"If you hadn't been so difficult, insisting on leaving home, would Vivian's stomach hurt? Don't you owe her an apology?"

I took a deep breath, thinking of the people abroad waiting for me to follow up on the project. I lowered my head.

"I'm sorry..."

Without changing my expression, I snapped my ankle back into place and asked softly:

"Can I go now?"

Staring at my severely swollen ankle, he threw me onto the sofa.

"Your foot's all swollen and you're still causing trouble. If it weren't for you, Vivian wouldn't have become mentally ill. What's the point of putting on this disgusting act?"

The family doctor arrived quickly. After calming Vivian down, the doctor came over to examine my foot with a pitying look.

"The ligaments are almost completely torn. Don't put weight on it, try not to walk much, or it might develop into a fracture. I'll prescribe you—"

"Mmm..."

Vivian let out a perfectly timed moan.

Derek instantly exploded in rage, pointing at the doctor and cursing:

"The pregnant woman isn't treated yet, why are you bothering with her! It's just a sprained ankle, she won't die. If something happens to Vivian, how will you take responsibility?"

Vivian wrapped herself around Derek's waist. "I want some water."

Derek looked around, grabbed a pair of scissors from the medical kit, and hurled them at me.

"What are you standing there for? Go get Vivian some water!"

I wiped the blood trickling from my forehead into my eye and limped away.

After Vivian drank the water and fell sweetly asleep, Derek finally spoke as if granting me a favor:

"Treat your wound too, so you don't scare Vivian when she wakes up."

When he turned around, he found I had already bandaged myself with gauze.

Alcohol, ice packs, gauze—I kept these supplies on hand every day and had to restock them frequently.

His eyes showed a moment of surprise.

"I'll take you to get scar removal treatment tomorrow. I won't let you be disfigured."

I thanked him perfunctorily.

Back in my room, I sent that person a message.