Chapter 189
Terry probably felt humiliated, unable to accept that a woman like me had put him down so ruthlessly.
He actually followed me into the elevator, standing on the other side, staring at me with venomous eyes.
The elevator doors slowly closed, leaving just the two of us in the cramped space. The atmosphere was suffocating.
Terry clearly wasn't ready to accept his earlier defeat. He took several deep breaths, forcibly suppressing his anger, and spoke again with malicious intent, "Grace, don't get too cocky. I know your mom got moved to a private room, right?"
He watched my expression, trying to find any sign of emotion, "But do you know how she got that room?"
He deliberately paused, observing my reaction before continuing, "It was Sarah. After George was discharged, Sarah specifically arranged to give that room to your mom."
"Why would she do that? Isn't it to make you and your mom wise up and stop clinging to George like leeches? She's giving you a little treat to shut you up, so that later..."
He leaned closer, his voice both tempting and threatening, "So that later, when the time comes and Sarah and George are really together, there'll be plenty of ways to make sure you and your mom can never speak up again!"
"And I'm telling you, George knows about this."
"He agreed to it, so Grace, you'd better have some shame. Take what you can get and stay away from George from now on. Stop fantasizing."
He thought these words would be like a sharp knife, stabbing right into my weak spot, making me embarrassed, angry, and irrational.
But I quietly listened to him finish, my face still showing no expression.
Not until the elevator doors opened at my mother's floor.
Only then did I slowly turn my head to look at Terry, smiling mockingly, "Terry, who exactly is clinging to whom?"
"Use that dog brain of yours and think carefully—from start to finish, who's been the one actively showing up in front of me, barking like a mad dog?"
"Who keeps bringing up George?"
I watched his expression freeze instantly, then continued in a calm tone with words that left him completely speechless, "As for Sarah arranging that room? George agreeing to it?"
"So what?"
I stepped out of the elevator, and at the last moment before the doors closed, I left him with a light comment that was sure to infuriate him, "Please thank them for me. My mom finds the room quite comfortable."
The elevator doors shut completely, blocking out Terry's face—furious and incredulous.
I knew Terry was trying to provoke me, to make me act irrationally in the heat of the moment—like immediately moving my mom out of that room, or running to fight with George and Sarah.
That way, I'd be playing right into his hands, becoming the ungrateful, unreasonable woman he claimed I was.
But I wouldn't do that anymore.
After everything I'd been through, I'd learned that true strength isn't about winning arguments or being easily provoked into doing stupid things that hurt yourself.
It's about clearly knowing what's truly important for yourself and your family.
That room had a good environment and was beneficial for my mom's recovery.
As for how we got it, or what motives George and Sarah had in offering it—did it matter?
No, it didn't.
Just like my marriage with George was coming to an end.
After the divorce, he and I would have nothing to do with each other.
These small favors or humiliations now were just dust—brush them off and move on.
I wouldn't let these people's words and schemes cause any dramatic emotional reactions anymore, and I certainly wouldn't let them affect my actual decisions or my mom's interests.
So Terry's childish and ridiculous provocations wouldn't get any reaction from me anymore.
I straightened my back and walked toward my mom's room without looking back.
Behind me, the elevator doors closed tightly, but I could imagine how frustrated Terry must be inside.
He probably couldn't figure out how Grace, who used to be so timid around him that she didn't even dare speak loudly, had become so terrifyingly calm.
At the hospital room door, I adjusted my breathing and expression before pushing it open.
Inside, the lighting was warm. Mom was half-reclined on the raised hospital bed, chatting casually with Echo, the caregiver sitting beside her. Both had relaxed smiles on their faces.
Echo was talking about something funny that happened at her son's work recently. Mom listened attentively, her eyes showing a longing for simple happiness.
When they saw me come in, they immediately stopped talking.
"Grace is back." Mom's face lit up with a smile.
"Ms. Brown, let me take that for you." Echo quickly stood up and came over to help me with what I was carrying.
When she saw the obviously expensive health supplement gift box I was holding, surprise flashed in her eyes, but she quickly covered it up. Taking the box, she said gently, "These supplements—Ms. Murphy just had surgery and her body is still weak. She's not quite ready for such rich foods yet. I'll put them in the cabinet over there for now, and we'll see about using them when she's recovered more."
"Okay, thank you Echo." I handed her the gift box.
Mom's gaze also fell on the box, and her face showed confusion and a hint of disapproval, "Grace, why are you spending money carelessly again? What did you buy this for? It must be so expensive! The hospital's nutritional meals are fine for me. I don't need these things."
I sat by Mom's bedside, looking at her slightly tired but trying-to-be-cheerful face, feeling a softness in my heart.
She was always like this—thinking of me first, herself second.
"Mom, I didn't buy those things." I explained softly, not wanting her to think I was wasting money. "They're from an important business partner at the company. I tried to refuse, but he insisted on giving them. I was afraid being too firm would affect our business relationship, so I accepted them for now."
I paused and added, "Another day, I'll treat him to dinner or buy an equivalent gift to return the favor."
Hearing this, the disapproval on Mom's face faded, and she nodded, "I see. You did the right thing, Grace. Social courtesies require proper boundaries. You can't just take advantage of people. I support you."
She looked at me, familiar worry rising in her eyes again, "By the way, Echo takes good care of me here. You're so busy with work and taking care of Milly—you really don't need to come to the hospital every day to see me. You should spend more time with Milly, or go home and rest properly. That's what matters."
I smiled and handed her some water, "Coming to see you and chat with you is also what matters to me. Don't worry about Milly—Emily's taking care of her. They get along really well, always have things to talk about, and they're having a great time together. Once you're better and successfully discharged, then I can truly relax."
I didn't tell Mom about Jack bullying Milly at school, or about Tom's foul language and the confrontation at the hospital entrance, and certainly not about Terry's provocation in the elevator just now.
These upsetting things would only add to Mom's worries and affect her recovery if I mentioned them.
The most important thing for her now was to get better.
Mom took the water cup, took a small sip, and her face showed both comfort and emotion, "I was just talking to Flora on the phone about you. Flora and I both feel that we're old now and can't help you much with other things, but at least we need to take care of our health and absolutely not become burdens to you."
My heart ached, and I held her hand, "Mom, you and Flora have never been burdens to me. You're my most important family, my motivation, and besides..."
My tone deepened slightly with a hint of relief, "I'm about to be free."
Mom immediately understood what I meant—I was talking about the divorce.
She fell silent for a moment, took another sip of water, then suddenly looked up at me as if remembering something, her tone somewhat complicated, "Grace, actually, George came by this afternoon."
My heart suddenly tightened, and my grip on her hand unconsciously tightened, "He came to see you? What did he talk about? Did he want to withdraw his investment? Or try to convince you to sell the company again?"
My voice carried tension and defensiveness I didn't even notice.
Seeing my reaction, Mom actually laughed and gently patted the back of my hand. "Don't be so nervous. He didn't talk about anything—didn't mention the company or money."
"He just came in and stood for a while, asked about my condition, and said I should focus on recovering here without worrying about the costs—he'd taken care of everything."
Mom paused, her eyes showing a kind of satisfied frankness, "My first reaction was to kick him out. Who needs his fake kindness?"
"But then I thought, wait—you two aren't divorced yet. His money is your money, isn't it? It's your marital property! My daughter's money—I can use it with a clear conscience. Why should I feel guilty? Why shouldn't I take it?"
"So," Mom smiled, "I didn't stand on ceremony with him. I just said I understood, and he didn't stay long—left after less than five minutes."