Chapter 7
Sienna threw herself into Damien’s arms, crying: “Damien, I was just trying to comfort Brooklyn, telling her not to be sad, even offering to let Noah call her godmother, but she… she said such horrible things to me…”
Noah pointed at me too: “Daddy, this evil woman tried to burn Mommy to death! She wanted to throw me in the soup pot and cook me! Daddy, you should beat her to death!”
Damien’s face turned dark as he looked at me with ice–cold eyes: “Brooklyn, why would you do this? I know you’re upset about Lucas, maybe even depressed. But you can’t take it out on other people! You can’t hurt Sienna and Noah! They’re innocent! You’ve really disappointed me! Is it because you’re so vicious that our child had to suffer like
this?!”
I’m vicious? My child suffered because of me?
I looked at him and asked word by word: “Damien, why did I miscarry eight times? Why did I go through sixty–eight IVF procedures? Why was my Lucas born sick and weak? Why did he suddenly die? Do you really not know?”
Damien’s expression changed, his eyes darting away: “Brooklyn, you have some nerve asking that! If your body wasn’t messed up, why couldn’t we have kids? If you weren’t such a horrible person, why would our child suffer like that? And now you’re blaming me? Do you have any conscience at all?”
I’m a horrible person? Do I have any conscience?
I laughed coldly and grabbed the pot of scalding soup, plunging my hand into it. The boiling liquid instantly seared my skin, the pain excruciating. But I felt nothing. My heart hurt so much more.
Damien freaked out and rushed over, grabbing my hand and yanking it out of the pot. “Brooklyn, have you lost your fucking mind?!” he roared, his voice shaking.
I looked at him with complete resolve: “Is this enough to make up for what I did to your precious woman and son?!”
I turned and walked away.
Damien chased after me: “Brooklyn, your hand…”
Sienna’s voice cut in: “Damien, my hand got burned too. It hurts so bad…”
Noah also tugged at Damien’s sleeve: “Daddy, Mommy’s hand hurts.”
Damien looked at me, then at Sienna, hesitating for a moment. “Brooklyn, just… take care of it yourself for now. I’ll check on you later.”
He left with Sienna and Noah.
Every dermatologist in the city was summoned to the Hawthorne house for Sienna’s consultation. News coverage
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Eight Miscarriages Later, I Discovered His Sick Plan
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Chapter
was everywhere.
I looked at the notifications on my phone and laughed–a bitter, hollow laugh. Sienna had barely been splashed with hot water while I had plunged my entire hand into scalding soup.
I bandaged up my mangled, burned hand with some basic first aid.
Damien called me. “Brooklyn, are you alright? You’re in a really fragile place right now–you need to rest and take care of yourself. I already apologized to Sienna for you, and her burn is healing up nicely. I talked it over with Sienna, and she’s cool with letting Noah recognize you as his godmother. We can raise him together. That way you’ll have something to focus on, you know? What do you think?”
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