Chapter 166
Sarah looked at the fruit basket in Tom's hands, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "Low-key enough. But when we see George later, talk less about company stuff, and don't brag about any achievements. He just got over his fever and needs rest. I don't want him to barely recover only to get stressed out and worn down by work stuff again."
Hearing this, Tom's face took on a knowing, suggestive expression. He nudged Sarah with his elbow and teased, "You're not even officially married into the Smith family yet, and you're already this concerned about him? All you think about is your George's health."
A perfectly timed blush rose to Sarah's cheeks, "Soon enough. We've always been family."
"Good! Good!" Tom laughed heartily, patting Sarah's shoulder, "Family! Once those tourism contracts we snatched from Grace's mom are all officially signed, I'll give you every bit of the profit share I promised. Not a penny less."
Sarah smiled slightly and nodded, "Good."
The two talked in low voices as they walked toward the elevator, clearly heading upstairs to visit George in the hospital.
They passed not far from where I stood, walking briskly, their minds on George, completely failing to notice the woman in a hat with her back to them, picking up medicine nearby.
They also didn't see how, under the brim of my hat, my face had instantly turned terribly pale, drained of all color.
My nails dug deep into my palms, the sharp pain barely suppressing the urge to rush over and tear apart those two fake faces.
The short walk from the first-floor lobby back upstairs to the ward felt incredibly heavy.
Those few brief sentences between Sarah and Tom kept echoing in my mind, like a rusty saw blade, pulling back and forth across my nerves.
So it turned out, I had thought Tom was acting on his own, taking advantage of his connection with Sarah to target us.
Because Sarah hated me, Tom dared to so brazenly steal my mom's company projects, even using such dirty tactics that left my mom so distressed she got into a car accident.
But now, I had heard it with my own ears.
It wasn't Tom acting on his own.
It was George.
He was the one who gave them confidence, who permitted all of this.
He might even be the hand pushing things along behind the scenes.
That's why Tom dared to be so arrogant.
How ridiculous.
Really, truly ridiculous.
What was George thinking?
On one hand, he dragged his feet on the divorce, using that marriage certificate like an invisible chain, still vaguely tying me down. On the other hand, he could be so cold, even cruel, allowing others to hurt my family and destroy the business my mom worked so hard to maintain.
That time at the archery range, when he rushed over to grab me and ask anxiously if I was okay—thinking back on it now, it just seemed disgustingly fake.
I couldn't understand George at all anymore.
Or rather, I had never truly understood him.
That husband I once thought was just cold and distant—what kind of heart was hidden beneath his skin?
I had rushed here so quickly, my mind full of worry for my mom's safety, that I hadn't noticed at all that George was also in this hospital.
He still hadn't been discharged?
I remembered last time, when Violet had specifically called, almost begging me to come see him at the hospital.
I came, but only stood at his door and heard him say those casual words about being "just good friends." My heart went cold, and I turned and left.
I thought that would be the last time I'd cross paths with him in a place like a hospital.
But I never expected fate would still bring me here, to a place not far from his ward.
What cruel irony.
I carried the medicine, took a breath to steady myself, and walked toward my mom's room.
Just as I neared the doorway, a familiar voice, carrying a hint of deliberate surprise, called out behind me, "Ms. Brown?"
I stopped short, not turning around immediately.
Sarah walked around on light steps to stand in front of me, blocking part of my path.
She wasn't wearing makeup today, her face looking rather plain, but the scrutiny in her eyes and that trace of mockery were particularly clear.
"What a coincidence." She tilted her head slightly, looking me over, her gaze landing on the medicine bag in my hand, "Are you here to see George?"
She paused, the corners of her mouth curving into a half-smile, "I remember last time you said you wouldn't come?"
"So is Ms. Brown now saying one thing but doing another?"
I heard the obvious sarcasm and probing in her words.
In her view, my being here could only mean I came for George.
After all, George was a VIP patient at this hospital, and naturally I must be desperately trying to win him back, sneaking over here.
I raised my eyes and looked at her coldly, "Ms. Wilson is reading too much into it."
My voice was calm but carried undisguised coldness, "I'm not here to see George. Even if he died, I wouldn't come look at him."
Perhaps my tone was too final, the malice in my words too direct—Sarah was clearly taken aback.
She frowned, a flash of doubt and scrutiny in her eyes, as if she didn't quite believe me, "What game are you playing now? Didn't you come here specifically because you knew George was in this hospital?"
Her gaze fell again on the medicine bag in my hand, with a kind of self-assured understanding and contempt, "You even bought medicine for George? No need. George has a professional medical team taking care of him, using only the best imported medicine."
"You should just throw that stuff in the trash. I can help with that."
As she spoke, she actually reached out, making a move to snatch the bag from my hand.
I jerked my hand up high, dodging her movement, my eyes suddenly cold as I snapped, "Sarah! Which eye of yours saw that this medicine is for George?"
My voice wasn't loud, but each word was clear, carrying suppressed anger, "Aren't you afraid he'd be poisoned to death if he took this medicine?"
Sarah was startled by my sudden outburst and that undisguised curse, stepping back half a pace, her expression changing.
I ignored her and walked straight past her toward my mom's room.
I could feel Sarah's gaze sticking to my back.
Sure enough, as I pushed open my mom's door, from the corner of my eye I caught her following, apparently wanting to see which room I entered and who exactly I was visiting.
I had long seen through her intentions.
Just as she was about to reach the door, her line of sight about to fall into the room, I pushed the door firmly shut behind me, completely cutting off that face full of scrutiny and calculation.
Almost simultaneously, another man's voice came from outside—Tom, sounding impatient, "Sarah, what are you dawdling around here for? Hurry up, George is still waiting."
Then came Sarah's lowered voice, "I ran into Grace, she..."
Tom's voice immediately turned disgusted, "Bad luck. She must have found out George is here and came to pester him again. Let's go, don't let her succeed and ruin George's mood."
The sound of their hurried footsteps faded away outside the door.
I leaned against the door, listening to those footsteps recede, a cold and disdainful curve forming at the corners of my mouth.
Did they really think George was something worth having?
Everyone fighting over him, no one able to let go?
In my eyes, he was no different from trash.
"Grace?" My mom's voice came from the hospital bed, worried, "Why do you look so awful? What happened out there just now?"
I turned around, trying to soften my expression, and walked to the bedside, "Nothing, Mom. Just ran into a few flies. Too noisy, a bit annoying."
I put the medicine bag on the bedside table, took out the post-surgery anti-inflammatory and pain medication the doctor prescribed, and poured some warm water, "Take your medicine first. I've already contacted a reliable caregiver who'll come this afternoon. The doctor said with your condition, you need to stay in the hospital for at least a week for observation."
Hearing she'd need to stay a week, Mom's face immediately showed anxiety and guilt, "A week? That's too long. You have to work, and pick up and drop off Milly—how can you have the energy to look after the company too? I think I'm fine. Tomorrow, I can be discharged tomorrow!"
"No." My tone left no room for argument, "You have to listen to the doctor. I'll keep an eye on the company, don't worry about it."
Just then, there was a soft knock on the hospital room door.