Chapter 248 Revenge Has Come

Chapter 248 Revenge Has Come

The little girl's mom went pale, then flushed, but after glancing at Alex's back, she finally gritted her teeth and nodded. "Fine. We'll apologize."

The two kids were called into the office. At their parents' urging, they muttered a reluctant "sorry" to Eleanor.

Eleanor hid behind Emily, clutching her mom's shirt tightly, and gave a timid nod.

Emily crouched down and hugged her daughter, whispering in her ear, "Eleanor, Mommy will never leave you. Whether you have a little brother or sister or not, you'll always be my favorite."

Eleanor buried her face in her mom's neck and mumbled an "mm-hmm."

After they left the school, Alex drove them home.

Eleanor fell asleep in the backseat. Emily turned sideways to watch her little face, her eyes full of heartache.

"From now on, let me handle stuff like this," Alex said while driving. "You're still pregnant. You can't get worked up."

Emily shook her head. "I have to deal with Eleanor's matters myself. What she needs most right now is to feel safe."

Alex glanced at her in the rearview mirror but didn't say anything more.

Once home, Alex carried the sleeping Eleanor from the car straight to her room. He laid her gently on the bed, tucked her in, and stood there watching his daughter for a while before quietly leaving and closing the door.

After the school incident, Emily noticed Alex had changed.

He started coming home on time every night. No matter how busy things got at the office, he showed up at the door by six. He always brought bags of stuff—sometimes fresh groceries, sometimes a pregnancy massage pillow, sometimes new toys and books for Eleanor.

At first Emily thought it was just a short-lived phase and he'd go back to his workaholic ways soon enough. But one week passed, then two, and Alex kept coming home right on time without fail.

One night Emily woke up thirsty and saw the light still on in the study. She pushed the door open and found Alex at the computer, papers spread out in front of him. He was looking at the documents while typing something on the screen.

When she got closer, she realized it wasn't company reports on the screen—it was a cooking tutorial video. He had several other tabs open too, all about pregnancy care and nutrition tips. A notebook lay beside him, filled with handwritten notes: what nutrients to add at each stage, what pregnant women shouldn't eat, which food combinations are best for the baby's development.

Emily leaned against the doorframe and watched him for a long moment before speaking. "You're up in the middle of the night researching this stuff?"

Alex spun around, saw her standing there, and instinctively closed the notebook.

"Why are you awake?"

"I'm thirsty." Emily walked over, picked up the closed notebook, and flipped it open. His handwriting was a bit messy but organized, and he'd even drawn simple comparison charts for nutrients. "Why are you doing all this? Why not just hire someone to take care of things?"

Alex took the notebook back, looking a little awkward. "I don't trust anyone else."

"What's there to worry about? A professional maternity nurse would do a better job than you figuring it out on your own."

"I'm not just guessing," Alex said, unusually serious. "I asked the doctor. These recipes are all based on what they recommended."

Emily looked at how earnest he was and felt both amused and a little sad. This man who made tough calls in business without blinking was now staying up at night taking notes just to cook her a nutritious meal.

"Fine," she gave in. "If you want to take care of me yourself, that's okay. But we should still hire someone to help. You can't skip work every day to stay home with me."

Alex thought it over and nodded.

The next day he had Michael find some candidates. Michael screened a bunch of résumés and finally picked a middle-aged woman named Betty. She was in her early thirties with ten years of experience as a maternity nurse and had apparently taken care of quite a few wealthy wives during their postpartum periods.

Alex sat in on the interview himself, asked all the questions, and had Michael check her background. Only after confirming there were no red flags did he let her start.

On Betty's first day, Emily noticed her hands. They were soft and well cared for, not at all like someone who'd spent years doing rough work. A woman who'd been a maternity nurse for ten years shouldn't have such smooth, delicate hands.

Emily looked a little longer. Betty noticed and quickly tucked her hands into her apron pockets, smiling. "Miss Johnson, I'll go get your afternoon snack ready."

As Betty turned and walked toward the kitchen, Emily felt an odd sense of familiarity. She couldn't quite place it—like she'd seen this person somewhere before, even though she knew she'd never met that face.

At dinner Emily mentioned it to Alex. "That Betty—did you really check her out?"

Alex put down his chopsticks. "Why? You think there's something wrong with her?"

"Not exactly," Emily frowned. "She just seems a little off. I can't explain it. It feels like I've seen her somewhere."

"Michael checked her résumé and background. Nothing came up," Alex said, serving her some food. "Pregnancy can make you more sensitive. Maybe you're overthinking it."

"Maybe."

"Still, if it makes you uneasy, I'll have someone keep an eye on her," Alex said. "You should stay alert too. If anything feels wrong, tell me."

Emily nodded.

Over the next few days Betty was efficient and well-behaved. She cooked well, worked quickly, never snooped around, and didn't ask nosy questions. Emily gradually let her guard down and figured she really had been overthinking.

But her gut feeling wasn't wrong.

Betty's face was the result of plastic surgery. Her original face had been beaten to a pulp by Tyler—her nose broken, cheekbones shattered, three teeth knocked out, and a gash at the corner of her mouth that needed over a dozen stitches and left a nasty scar.

In that rundown apartment in Northern Europe, she'd stared at her ruined reflection in a cracked mirror and smashed it while screaming. Looking like this, and with Tyler still out gambling and coming back to beat her whenever he lost, treating her like a punching bag—she couldn't live that way anymore.

She called Matthew.

When he picked up, her voice was shaking. "Matthew, help me. Please help me. Tyler's going to kill me."

Matthew was silent for a long time on the other end.

He hadn't wanted to get involved. To him she was just a useless pawn.