<b>Chapter </b><b>7 </b>
A sharp pain stabbed through Veronica’s chest, making it hard to breathe.
Her fingers, cold and numb, barely managed to dial Miriam’s number. She didn’t want to argue–she just needed to ask what was going on.
On the other end of the call, Miriam was cuddled up next to Eleanor, snapping a few selfies while holding
a plush doll. When she saw the caller ID, her delicate brows twitched slightly with visible irritation.
The phone rang for a while before Eleanor gently reminded her, “Mira, your mom is calling. Aren’t you going to answer?”
Miriam shook her head. “She’s so annoying. If I pick up, she’ll just ask a million questions again. I don’t
want to deal with it.”
Without hesitation, she declined the call.
Then, she turned to Samuel andined, “Told you we never should’ve taken her off the blocklist. It’s
only been one night, and she’s already calling nonstop. What are you even scared of?”
“I’m not scared. I just thought maybe she forgot to tell us something important. You’re the one who
unblocked her,” Samuel shot back, his voice was tight with frustration.
He thought his mother could have at least waited before calling again–she was really making him look
bad.
Miriam pouted. “She never forgets anything. Once she starts talking, she just keeps going. It’s exhausting.”
For thest three months, while they had stayed in Shalton, Veronica had called them twice a day without fail<b>–</b>once around breakfast and once before dinner.
Each time, she spent nearly an hour going over their meals, sleep, and clothes.
Initially, after leaving their mother, the two of them were still somewhat clingy, They made their calls right
on schedule every single day.
But after a while, with Eleanor around and new friends to distract them, they got less eager.
What started as two daily calls slowly dropped to one. Eventually, each conversationsted less than ten minutes before the kids found excuses to hang up. In the past couple of days, they had gone so far as to
block her entirely.
Veronica stared at the phone in her hand as the screen dimmed. The small flicker of hope she had been holding onto slowly died with it. She didn’t even know what she had been clinging to anymore.
Then suddenly, she doubled over<b>, </b>wracked by a fit of coughing that left flecks of blood on her palm.
The driver saw her through the rearview mirror and panicked. He mmed his <b>foot </b>down and rushed her <b>to </b>the nearest hospital.
Back at Hillside Vi, Samuel watched as Miriam finally finished posing with Eleanor and her doll. While pulling awkwardly at the sleeve of his pajamas, he muttered, “Mira, can you take <b>one </b>of me too?”
When Veronica first made these pajamas, he had actually liked them. But because the bear pattern was
<b>too </b>childish, he acted like he hated them.
Now, because of Eleanor, he finally got to wear them before he outgrew them.
She had evenplimented him earlier. “Sam, you don’t always have to y the tough guy. Sometimes
it’s okay just to be cute.”
He blushed to hear that. “Ms. Turner, if you like it, I can wear it every day.”
The pajamas weren’t just cute. They were soft, cozy, and the fabric felt like wearing a cloud. In fact, when Veronica wasn’t nagging, she did make some amazing clothes.
He figured he could take a quick picture–just this once–and send it to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Ms. Turner just stepped out to grab some milk,” Miriam huffed, clearly
annoyed.
Samuel opened his mouth to exin, but stopped.
Miriam had misunderstood him.
It wasn’t that he wanted a photo with Eleanor. They already had plenty.
He just… wanted to send one to Veronica.
“What’s all the whispering about, Mira, Sam?” Eleanor’s gentle voice rang out behind them.
Samuel suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. He spun around in a hurry, only to crash right into Eleanor.
Eleanor let out a soft gasp.
The warm milk in her hand spilled straight down the front of Samuel’s pajamas. The once<b>–</b>cute little bear print was now stained and soaked.
Miriam let out a shriek of her own<b>, </b>then scolded sharply, “Samuel, how could you be <b>so </b>careless<b>? </b>Say
<b>sorry to </b>Ms. Turner.”
Samuel stared at his soaked pajamas, and a quiet sense of frustration rose in his throat. Even <b>so</b><b>, </b>he dropped his gaze and muttered, “I’m sorry, Ms. Turner.”
Eleanor caught the flicker of emotion on his face–not guilt, but disappointment. Her eyes gleamed <b>for </b><b>a </b>
<b>moment</b>.
So, Samuel <b>cared </b>about the pajamas.
She gently tousled Samuel’s <b>hair</b>, her <b>voice </b><b>soft </b>and soothing. “Sam, I should <b>be </b><b>the </b><b>one </b><b>apologizing</b><b>. </b><b>I </b>
startled you, didn’t <b>I</b><b>?</b><b>” </b>
Samuel blinked in surprise and shook his head. “No, it was my fault.”
Eleanor smiled warmly and took the me anyway. “I came in without knocking. My bad. How about I get
you the new limited–edition Ultrabot pajamas as an apology? Would that make it up to you?”
Samuel’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
All the boys in his ss had some kind of Ultrabot shirt, and he had always wanted one. But Veronica
insisted those clothes were made with cheap dye and were full of germs. She refused to let him wear any
of them.
He always thought that was just an excuse to control what they wore.
Eleanor pinched his nose yfully. “Of course, when have I ever lied to you two? Now be a good boy and go change, or you’ll catch a cold.”
Samuel beamed and dashed off to change, tossing the ruined bear pajamas straight into the trash can.
He didn’t care about those childish clothes anymore–at least, that was what he told himself.
In the study upstairs, Heath powered up his old phone.
There had been a piece of sensitivepany data stored in it that hadn’t been backed up, so he had
?sked Walter to send it for repairs.
Now with the SIM card reinserted, most of the old messages were gone.
Thest message from Veronica still remained. “Landing in Shalton at 10:00 pm today.”
That same day, Eleanor had secured Lucas’s exclusive luxury brand deal. Coincidentally, Tate Group had
just entered negotiations for a ten–year partnership with that brand, and they had crossed paths at the
g.
He hadn’t seen Veronica’s message.
Heath tugged at his tie with a frown. Was she really still upset over that?
As the screen refreshed, three missed calls popped up in the log. One of them was an hour ago <b>from </b>
Veronica<b>. </b>
With <b>a </b>sigh, he dialed her back. But just as the call connected<b>, </b>two frantic voices echoed <b>from </b><b>downstairs</b>.
Meanwhile<b>, </b><b>at </b>Jouver Medical <b>Center</b><b>, </b><b>a </b>nurse spoke into the phone.
“Hello? Is this the husband of Ms. <b>Dolton</b><b>? </b>This <b>is </b><b>Jouver </b><b>Medical </b><b>Center</b><b>. </b><b>You’re </b><b>listed </b><b>as </b><b>the </b><b>emergency </b>
<b>contact </b><b>on </b>this patient’s phone. Your wife has <b>just </b><b>been </b>admitted in <b>critical </b><b>condition</b>. Sir<b>, </b><b>we </b><b>need </b><b>you </b><b>to </b>
The young nurse had been speaking for a while, but she got no response from the other end. She nced down, only to find the phone had died and shut off automatically.
“Dad! Something’s wrong with Ms. Turner!”
“She’s dying! Dad, please go help her.”
Samuel and Miriam burst into the study, panic written all over their faces.
“What happened?” Heath narrowed his eyes as he stood up sharply and rushed toward the bedroom.
Eleanor was lying on the bed, flushed from head to toe. Angry rashes were spreading quickly across her arms and neck.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “Heath… am I going to die?”
Samuel spoke quickly, his words tumbling out in fear. “Ms. Turner said her whole body started itching. She scratched wherever the pajamas touched, and these rashes just showed up!”
Veronica had made the pajamas, and the thought that she might have intentionally harmed Eleanor was deeply unsettling.
But Veronica couldn’t have known Eleanor would even wear them.
He tried to push the thought away, but Miriam blurted it out anyway.
Heath’s expression darkened.
Earlier, Eleanor had realized she had forgotten to pack her own nightwear after arriving in Shalton. She
had borrowed the set Veronica had left behind.
The kids had noticed and begged to wear theirs too, dragging Heath into it.
<b>It </b>was just sleepwear, so he hadn’t thought twice about it.
But no one expected <b>it </b>would lead to something like this.
Heath’s expression darkened as he dialed Veronica’s number.
The line connected for a second, then yed the automated message. “The number you <b>are </b><b>trying </b><b>to </b>
<b>reach </b><b>is </b><b>currently </b>unavable.”
Her phone was off.
<b>Heath’s </b>jaw <b>clenched</b><b>, </b><b>and </b>his grip <b>on </b><b>the </b><b>phone </b><b>tightened</b>. It <b>seemed </b><b>Veronica </b>had blocked <b>him</b><b>. </b>
He thought he had allowed Veronica <b>to </b><b>get </b>away with <b>too </b>much.
<b>Eleanor’s </b><b>breathing </b>grew more strained<b>, </b>and <b>her </b><b>chest </b>rose <b>in </b><b>shallow</b><b>, </b><b>gasping </b><b>breaths</b>. <b>The </b><b>kids were </b>
frantically pacing the room, too scared to cry.
Without another word, Heath strode to the bed, leaned down, and swept her into his arms. “Whatever mistake Veronica makes, I’ll make sure you get justice,” he said through gritted teeth.
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<b>Chapter </b><b>8 </b>