"Tanya, is this entertaining for you?" The turmoil in Vincent Hawthorne’s eyes subsides, and he looks at her with a frown.
Tanya Sinclair even sees a trace of disdain in Vincent Hawthorne’s eyes.
As if she had just made an outrageous demand like murder or arson.
She lowers her eyes and chuckles softly.
"Since you can’t give it, why do you even ask?" Her tone is light yet cold.
"..." Vincent Hawthorne’s face turns completely cold, and he looks at her with an utterly unfamiliar gaze, "How did you become ?"
Tanya Sinclair nearly wants to shout out uncontrollably, who exactly turned her into this?
Who caused her to be worn down and tormented into this current state??
How could Vincent Hawthorne face her with such a disappointed look?
But saying these things to a man who never loved her, what meaning would it hold?
It would only make her seem like a madwoman.
Tanya can’t believe that after Vincent Hawthorne came back with the two children, Aunt Tawny didn’t ask about the desserts or tell them that she was the one to deliver the desserts for the kids.
Vincent must know, yet he doesn’t care.
"Hiss—" Vincent’s handsome face suddenly turns pale; he presses a hand against his stomach, bending over slightly.
Tanya knows that his stomach problem is acting up again.
His stomach condition is congenital and difficult to cure.
Those years, she put her heart and soul into treating Vincent Hawthorne’s stomach; nurturing him, helping him try medications, she tormented herself till she was throwing up, later finally managed to get him somewhat better.
A few days before her delivery, Tanya was actually worried about potential accidents, hence she specifically wrote several prescriptions and handed them to a known traditional medicine clinic, prepaid ten years’ worth of fees, instructing them to prepare five doses based on the prescription monthly and deliver them to the villa timely...
"Tanya." Vincent instinctively grabs her, groaning, "My stomach hurts."
He is used to it, no matter what happens. As long as Tanya Sinclair is around, as long as he speaks, she would settle things neatly for him.
During the five years Tanya turned into a vegetative state, absent from his life, Vincent hadn’t realized.
But now that she’s back, old habits engraved in his bones resurrect.
However, Tanya Sinclair’s response is utterly different from what he expected.
Tanya simply calmly yet firmly breaks free of his hand.
"If you’re uncomfortable, just lie down and rest; I’ll have Aunt Tawny call the doctor."
The warmth of her palm still remains, yet only emptiness is left, Vincent fiercely frowns.
She wants to leave him here?
How dare she not care for him!
"Tanya Sinclair, stop right there..."
Vincent clumsily turns back to try and grab her, yet Tanya Sinclair doesn’t even stop, just walks away directly.
His fingertips barely graze the edge of her clothes, catching nothing.
The stomach pains severely.
Vincent’s face turns ghostly white, staggering he crashes heavily onto the ground.
Tanya walks to the staircase, hearing the sound, her body freezes.
Her fingers on the railing grip tightly, knuckles against the skin, pressing out a patch of bloodless pale.
"What’s wrong, madam?"
Aunt Tawny rushes over in a panic; she heard the same sound.
Tanya responds faintly: "Call Dr. Sullivan, tell him Mr. Hawthorne’s stomach pains intensely and ask him to come over. If it can’t be resolved, just send him straight to the hospital."
Aunt Tawny freezes a moment.
So the sound just now must have been Mr. Hawthorne collapsing from stomach pain?
But how could the madam be so calm with this response?
Previously when Mr. Hawthorne had so much as a cold, the madam would panic as if the world was ending...
Aunt Tawny opens her mouth wanting to say something.
Tanya Sinclair has already stepped downstairs, pausing slightly when they brush shoulders.
"Aunt Tawny, I’m a little tired; tonight I’ll sleep with the kids. When Dr. Sullivan arrives, ask him to be quiet and not disturb the children."
Aunt Tawny is stunned.
Does the madam mean she’s not dealing with it? ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel·fire·net
Aunt Tawny is stuck in shock for several seconds before she snaps back, hesitantly replying: "...Yes, madam."
Tanya Sinclair has already walked towards the guest room on the first floor.
Aunt Tawny watches her slender indifferent back, her gaze becomes increasingly shocked and complicated.
But she dare not delay longer, immediately calls the family doctor Ian Sullivan, asking him to come over quickly.
Tanya Sinclair tiptoes open the door to the children’s room.
Because Joy fears the dark, a soft floor lamp is left on at bedtime.
Tanya quietly goes inside.
Both kids are already sound asleep, Caden sleeps neatly, the small blanket tucked under his chin, only his little head showing.
Tanya gazes tenderly for a moment, suddenly Joy in the other bed sounds troubled from a nightmare, whimpering helplessly.
In the serene room, the sound stands out particularly clear.
Tanya quickly walks over to see Joy frowning, her delicate face beaded with sweat.
She mutters dreamily, "Don’t catch me... Big monster, go away! Daddy, brother save Joy..."
Tanya sits by the bed, gently patting Joy’s back through the blanket, soothing her while gradually drawing her into an embrace.
"There, there, don’t be afraid sweetie, mom is here."
After a while, Joy calms down, her little face nuzzling Tanya’s leg seeking security, slowly falling back asleep.
Tanya lightly brushes aside a strand of sweat-dampened hair from Joy’s forehead, gazing at her daughter’s cherubic sleeping face, her heart also settles.
Actually, Joy resembles her own childhood quite a bit.
Seeing Joy is like seeing her past self—her childhood was too harsh, selfishly she wishes to let the two kids be more blessed.
Tanya, with her peripheral vision, notices Joy’s open notebook on the bedside table.
She picks it up and glances, the title is "My Wish".
Though not a prodigy like Caden, Joy is clever; at five, when average kids barely know many letters, Joy can already write beautifully and neatly.
Tanya reads on, Joy writes in length, wishing for pretty princess dresses, delicious treats, wanting to visit Disneyland ten more times... Tanya smiles, reading further.
Suddenly, two sentences catch her eye like a needle.
[... I also hope daddy won’t be so busy, often have time to play with me. Grandma says I inherited daddy’s genes, because daddy was often sick as a child, I’m also frequently ill.
Being sick is painful, medicine is bitter, I hope daddy, brother, and I are all healthy forever without illness...]
Tanya’s fingertips slightly tremble.
For a long time, she gazes at Joy’s sleeping visage, gently sighs...