In that moment, Matthew’s heart twisted painfully, and he experienced a sensation he couldn’t quite name, something foreign to him. He quickly moved the coffee table aside and knelt down beside Veronica. Without a word, he reached for her to lift her up.
As soon as his hands touched her, she weakly pushed him away, her voice barely a whisper, “Don’t… touch… me…” Her attempt at pushing him away was almost lifeless, her strength evaporating with each word she spoke. The contempt in her eyes was unmistakable, and Matthew saw the raw hatred she held for him. His temper flared.
“Fine,” he snapped, stepping back. “If you’re so strong, get up yourself.” He stood aside, his face a mask of indifference.
Veronica, with great difficulty, clung to the coffee table and slowly rolled onto her knees. She pressed her forehead to the floor, summoning the last bit of strength left in her body. She rose, trembling and white as a sheet, her breath shallow, her face contorted with pain. But she managed to look at Matthew, her lips curling into a sardonic smile, despite the agony she was in. “I’ve told you before. Even if… I die… I won’t… give birth to your child. I… did it.”
She was still smiling, though the effort was evident. Her legs were shaking, and sweat clung to her skin, her hair matted to her face, making her appear fragile and pitiful. She took one slow, painful step forward, each foot dragging as though she were walking through thick mud. Blood dripped from her, staining the floor with every step she took.
Matthew’s anger began to fade, replaced by something he couldn’t quite identify. He watched her, transfixed by her strength. Her stubbornness impressed him, something he had never expected from her. She seemed to carry an invisible aura around her that drew him in, and he couldn’t help but admire her unyielding attitude.
However, as Veronica took a few more steps, the world around her began to spin. Darkness overcame her, and she collapsed to the ground. Before she hit the floor, Matthew rushed forward and caught her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her.
“Young Master Matthew, she’s bleeding heavily. Let me help,” Thomas said, his voice filled with concern.
Matthew ignored him, his focus solely on Veronica. He lifted her carefully and carried her toward the door, his expression unreadable. As he moved down the hallway, neighbors stirred from their apartments, peeking out to see the commotion.
“What happened?” one whispered.
“She’s covered in blood! What’s going on?”
“That’s terrifying…” another murmured.
Matthew kept walking, his pace unwavering, until he reached the elevator. Just as the doors slid open, the paramedics stepped inside. “Did you call the emergency number?” one asked.
“Yes, she’s over two months pregnant and ingested a dangerous amount of motherwort,” Matthew answered tersely.
“Quickly, she’s losing a lot of blood!” the paramedic responded urgently.
Veronica was rushed to the hospital, Matthew accompanying her in the ambulance while Thomas followed in the car. Once at the hospital, Veronica was immediately taken to the emergency room. They worked swiftly to stop the bleeding before pumping her stomach.
Covered in blood, Matthew stood silently in the hallway, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he exhaled smoke. His face was clouded with a storm of emotions. Thomas, standing nearby, spoke up, trying to offer some reassurance. “Young Master Matthew, don’t worry. She’ll pull through. But honestly, it’s her own fault for taking so many pills. It was like she wanted to die.”
Matthew gave him a sharp, icy look but said nothing, the words hanging heavy between them.
After three long hours, the doctor finally emerged from the emergency room, looking weary. “We’ve stabilized her and pumped her stomach, but… the baby didn’t make it.”
Matthew’s jaw clenched. “What about her?”
“She’s lucky she got here in time. If she had arrived any later, the blood loss would have been fatal, even if the medication hadn’t killed her,” the doctor said, sounding almost relieved to be able to offer any good news at all.
“Thank you for your help,” Matthew replied curtly before turning and following the nurse who was pushing Veronica’s bed to her ward.
In the ward, Veronica lay unconscious, a drip attached to her arm. Her face, though still pale and weary, seemed peaceful for the moment. Matthew stood at the foot of her bed, watching her, his emotions hard to read. Even in her weakened state, something about her ordinary, yet somehow endearing, face caught his attention. He couldn’t quite place what it was.
The next day, Veronica slowly regained consciousness. She opened her eyes and took in the unfamiliar surroundings, her gaze falling on the drip hanging above her. A quiet sense of relief washed over her. I’m still alive, she thought, her mind still foggy. With a sigh, she turned her head toward the window, a pang of sorrow tugging at her heart as she thought of the child she had lost.
It was my own flesh and blood, and now it’s gone, without even getting the chance to see the world…
Just then, a voice broke the silence. “You’re awake?” It was Matthew, sitting in the chair by the window.
Veronica didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she offered him a small, pale smile, despite her exhaustion. “The baby’s gone. So, why are you still here, Young Master Matthew? Are you pretending to care? That’s not like you.”
Matthew didn’t flinch at her words. His eyes remained fixed on her, though a hint of something like guilt flickered in his gaze.
“You’ve said quite a lot for someone who almost died last night,” he remarked coldly. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.”
He stood up and walked toward her, placing a document on her bed. Veronica, still weak, shifted slightly to sit up. She eyed the document curiously, then opened the brown envelope to find the car accident case report she had asked Matthew to investigate.
“On the way back to Bloomstead,” Matthew explained, “the private investigator you hired was transporting the driver when the driver was taken by his enemies and killed. His name was Donnie Freimann, a wanted criminal with many enemies. Your parents are innocent in this matter, but since Donnie was an orphan, there’s no compensation for the loss.”
Matthew’s words were straightforward, though his tone was slightly softer than usual. Perhaps the events of the previous night had affected him more than he was willing to admit.
Veronica paused, looking up from the document. “Is that all?”
“What else do you want?” he asked, clearly frustrated.
Veronica smirked, raising an eyebrow. She handed him back the file, unopened. “No, nothing. I remember now—the child is gone, and I have no reason to ask you for anything else. Take it away.”
Matthew’s jaw tightened as he stared at her, his expression turning colder. “Veronica Murphy, don’t take advantage of me.”
She met his gaze coolly. “You must be kidding, Young Master Matthew,” she replied. “Before all this, we met by chance. And that day, when you were in the accident… I saved you out of greed.”
She didn’t say it aloud, but the words were there in her mind, heavy with meaning. But she chose not to linger on it. Instead, she sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t hate you. I just hate myself for not being strong enough. Now that the child is gone, we have nothing to do with each other. You’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine. I won’t cross your path again. And I ask that you never come into my world again.”
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