The night was deep and tranquil, with the chilly evening breeze kept outside the window.
In the bedroom, only a gentle floor lamp was lit, casting a warm, dusky glow reminiscent of the last rays of sunset—warm, but not scorching.
Tanya Sinclair sat by Joy’s bedside, silently watching over her daughter, with one hand resting on Joy’s shoulder, half hugging her.
Tanya shut her eyes pretending to sleep, but she was sleeping lightly; if her daughter showed any unease, she would gently pat her, soothing her without a sound.
Joy gradually calmed down, subconsciously snuggling closer to her, still uncomfortable, with her little face frowned up, and her small hands clutching Tanya’s hem, rubbing against it unconsciously.
It wasn’t the perfume scent from Cindy Mommy, but another one, like the sun-drenched grass, surrounding her warmly, soothingly loosening her tensed brow.
Joy laboriously opened her blurry eyes to see Tanya Sinclair with her head half lowered, looking drowsy and tired.
This was the bad woman.
Joy was stunned for a moment.
She immediately thought of Cindy Mommy, and felt a bit of resistance against Tanya Sinclair, she was on Cindy Mommy’s side!
Joy weakly struggled for a bit, but the bad woman before her seemed so tired, unable to open her eyes, yet her hands instinctively patted on Joy’s back lightly.
One pat at a time, gently comforting.
"Don’t be afraid, darling, Mommy’s here," Tanya softly murmured.
Joy paused, the little resistance inside her seemed to fade away with those pats. Seeing Tanya Sinclair’s tendency to open her eyes, Joy quickly shut her eyes tightly.
Then she felt the woman’s warm hand falling on her forehead.
She heard Tanya Sinclair breathe a sigh of relief.
"Good, not warm anymore."
The hand of this bad woman was unlike Cindy Mommy’s; Cindy Mommy’s hands were very soft, but this bad woman’s palms were coarse.
Grandma said, only those who have done a lot of work, those who’ve had a hard life, have such coarse hands.
’Our Joy is a princess her whole life, she will never need to work. Only those from the lower class have to work hard.’
That’s what the adults always said.
But, was this bad woman from the lower class?
Joy was a bit puzzled.
Wasn’t this bad woman her and her brother’s biological mother?
Grandma and Auntie both said this bad woman married Dad for a better life.
But why were her hands so coarse, with calluses, not at all like living a good life...
Could it be that after marrying Dad, she still lived very hard?
But, how could that be?
Dad was obviously so gentle, so nice...
Joy couldn’t figure it out; the more she thought, the heavier her head felt, and she soon drifted off to sleep unknowingly, her head resting against Tanya Sinclair’s leg, with even breathing, sleeping sweetly.
Tanya Sinclair worried that Joy might have a relapse of fever overnight, so she didn’t dare sleep deeply; she would open her eyes at the slightest movement.
So when Rhys Lucas’s message came in, the phone vibrated slightly, waking her almost instantly, and she reflexively grabbed the phone, looking at the time first.
It was already ten past midnight.
She remembered Vincent Hawthorne making a point of promising when he left to be back before midnight.
Vincent Hawthorne was a jerk, but he treated the kids fairly well; if he really came back, he wouldn’t miss checking on Joy... Since he didn’t appear, he hadn’t returned.
A thick layer of sarcasm appeared in Tanya Sinclair’s eyes.
The jerk man’s words are nothing but jerk speak!
After unlocking, Tanya was a bit surprised to find the message was actually from Rhys Lucas.
In all her years knowing Rhys Lucas, if he actively sent her a message, there was just one purpose—to disgust her!
Tanya Sinclair clicked in to take a glance, and sure enough, Rhys Lucas sent a picture depicting Vincent Hawthorne sitting beside a hospital bed, meticulously cutting fruit for Cindy Lynn.
Rhys Lucas: [Did Vincent ever take such care of you when you were hospitalized before? Isn’t it amusing that you insist on occupying Mrs. Hawthorne’s spot, Tanya Sinclair?]
Tanya Sinclair: "..."
Honestly, Rhys Lucas’s two messages were now virtually harmless to her.
She wasn’t at all surprised that Vincent Hawthorne went out late at night to accompany Cindy Lynn because it wasn’t the first time.
Tanya Sinclair calmly took a screenshot, saving it, and stored it in a private folder named [Evidence of the Scumbag’s Infidelity].
She had to thank Rhys Lucas for delivering further evidence of Vincent Hawthorne’s affair right to her.
Once she saved the evidence, Tanya Sinclair then deftly removed Rhys Lucas from her friends list, blocked, and deleted him.
After all, her WeChat was not a garbage dump; not all dirty things should remain.
Vincent Hawthorne carried Cindy Lynn’s bag as they left the hospital. Googlᴇ search Nove1Fire.net
He personally opened the car door to the back seat for Cindy Lynn.
The driver seated in the front had long since become accustomed to the sight.
After the two boarded the car, Vincent Hawthorne casually instructed, "Take Secretary Lynn home first."
"Alright, President Hawthorne." The driver professionally responded, then automatically raised the divider.
The entire back seat became a private space.
Vincent Hawthorne glanced at the time, subtly furrowing his brows.
"Vincent, did I delay you tonight?" Cindy Lynn slightly regretted, "If I had known earlier that Senior Brother Lucas was messaging you, I definitely wouldn’t have let you make a trip..."
"It’s fine." Vincent Hawthorne interrupted her, looking at Cindy Lynn, "After all, you received this ailment because of me. I thought you had recovered over these years..."
After all, it was Tanya Sinclair who personally formulated and brewed the medicine, and Cindy Lynn dutifully took it for two consecutive years. Her complexion improved significantly at the time, and she had no episodes of fainting.
Vincent Hawthorne thus believed she had recovered.
Cindy Lynn lowered her eyes, softly spoke, "Actually, these years, I occasionally still took medicine to regulate, but I didn’t want you to be too remorseful about this matter, feeling indebted to me..."
Saying this, Cindy Lynn couldn’t help but express, "After all, Ms. Tanya’s medical skills are exceptional. Her medicine works best for me."
Vincent Hawthorne didn’t immediately respond, his long legs crossed, as he placed one hand on his knee. His upright, handsome face was intermittently illuminated by street lamps, making it hard to discern his expression.
After a while, Vincent Hawthorne spoke slowly.
"Before I came, Tanya told me that when you delivered medicine oil to her this afternoon, you said some harsh words in front of her."
While he immediately dismissed this claim at that time.
But looking at it closer, Tanya Sinclair certainly wasn’t someone who would make up rumors or slander irresponsibly.
At her core, she was the most dignified and proud, unlikely to stoop to such deeds.
He turned his gaze to Cindy Lynn beside him, with an investigative look: "Cindy, I want to hear the truth. What did you actually say?"
Cindy Lynn’s fingers curled up on one side, clenched tightly on the fabric.
"It was me... I said harsh words." Cindy Lynn quietly confessed, "I told Tanya Sinclair that the medicine oil was bought for me by you, I couldn’t use it all, so I was giving it to her..."
Cindy Lynn offered a bitter smile, slowly raised her face, while the street lamp’s light passed over her delicate pale face, reflecting vulnerable glistening tears in her eyes.
As a line of tear mark streaked from Cindy Lynn’s eye corner, Vincent Hawthorne’s pupils tightened.