Hattie couldn’t help but laugh at his “slovenly” appearance. “I wonder if people will think you had a miscarriage.”
Her voice was hoarse as she woke up, and talking about her abdominal pain caused her to frown in pain, wrinkling her brow.
Harry had been watching her complexion closely, and when he saw her frown, he immediately panicked and asked, “Are you in pain? Shall I call a doctor or nurse to come and check on you?”
“No need, the pain after a miscarriage is normal. Patients always feel pain, it’s not like we’re normal people. Besides, I’m a doctor myself. Calling them won’t stop the pain unless…” Hattie suddenly stopped herself from continuing.
The way she spoke, half-starting and half-stopping, was very good at arousing people’s curiosity. Harry asked, “Unless what?”
Hattie composed her expression quickly and turned cold in a second. “Unless dead. A dead person won’t feel pain.”
“Don’t say such unlucky words.”
Unlucky? Was she ever lucky? She used to be the daughter of a mayor, but then her father went to prison and her mother followed by jumping off a building. She had hoped to wait for the day her father would be released from prison, but she didn’t expect her father to die in prison.
A mayor’s daughter suddenly became an orphan, pushed away by people as if she were tossed like a ball, one after another, until they threw her at the orphanage gate.
When Harry brought her back, she thought she would have a good life, but the imagined home became a dark “prison” until she truly entered a prison.
Looking back on her life, Hattie realized she had been incredibly unlucky. The brief moments of good luck always led to more tragic beginnings.
Hattie lowered her eyes and didn’t want to speak.
Harry handed her a glass of warm water with a straw on top for her to drink lying down.
Hattie looked at the straw near her lips and didn’t drink. Instead, she asked with dry lips, “What happened to the child in my belly?”
She was too calm, not showing the typical grief of a mother who had just lost a child. Harry couldn’t find a trace of grief on Hattie’s face; instead, he caught a hint of excitement in her eyes.
Harry wanted to ignore that hint of excitement, thinking he might be too tired and mistaken. But he couldn’t ignore it.
“Do you have nothing else to say?” Harry’s heart felt like it was going to break, as if his whole body was burning. “The child is gone. Aren’t you sad, Hattie…?”
Hattie looked up, touching her stomach. A bastard child, why give birth to it?
“Is my sadness useful? It’s already gone,” Hattie scoffed. “Do I have to cry and scream during my recovery? Give in to depression and die? Would that make you feel better?”
Her tone was so indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
“Why did you let someone else do it?”
After sending Hattie to the hospital, the housekeeper sent someone to check the surveillance cameras. The footage was sent to Harry’s phone.
Harry watched as Hattie took the bowl of chicken soup from Mrs. Thompson and drank it. Soon after, she started feeling unwell and ended up sleeping on the rocking chair. It took almost half an hour for the housekeeper to notice her condition, by which time Hattie had already fainted.
Harry wasn’t stupid. How could he not figure out the connection between these events?
Hattie was a doctor. Even if she couldn’t identify the problem with the soup, how could she not notice her body’s reaction? Miscarriages aren’t a small matter. She was bleeding, didn’t she know? She was a medical student; wouldn’t she recognize the signs of a miscarriage?
But she didn’t take any action, didn’t ask for help. She just lay quietly there, enduring the pain.
The doctor said Hattie was brought in too late. If she had come earlier and received timely medical attention, the child could have been saved.
All of this only indicated that Hattie didn’t want this child at all. She intentionally used someone else’s hand to kill the child in her belly.
Hattie heard his accusation and wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the strength. She was in pain in her abdomen and had difficulty talking. “Harry, why do you have the right to accuse me? The drugs were administered by your people. Why don’t you investigate and catch me instead of accusing me? Oh, I see, you must think I bribed Mrs. Thompson to poison herself, just like two years ago with the car accident. If I didn’t get hurt, Fiona wouldn’t have lost a leg.”
She didn’t believe that with Harry’s power, he wouldn’t be able to find out. The one who drugged her was Mrs. Thompson, who was bribed by Fiona.