Chapter 237
The night wind cut through her collar. Gemma shrank back, shivering.
The two of them stood at the side of the road outside the nursing home entrance, utterly disheveled.
"Preston, what do we do now? That girl is actually Dr. Sinclair… How can she be Dr. Sinclair?"
Gemma ground her teeth, her eyes full of terror.
"Shut up!" Preston barked irritably, his face dark.
He stared fixedly at the towering nursing home, a crazed gleam flickering in his eyes. "Lucinda's so powerful now. We absolutely can't give up on her. We have to get your mother to talk some sense into Lucinda."
At those words, Gemma perked up. "Right! As long as that bitch is willing to treat us like before—as long as she listens to us like she used to—all of the Wipere family's problems will be solved! The Douglas family won't target us anymore either!"
Their schemes clicked into place like an abacus.
But now, with guards like iron towers stationed at the main gate, they couldn't move an inch forward.
"If the front gate won't work, we'll find another way!" Preston suddenly stood, dusted himself off, and a vicious glint flashed in his eyes. "Let's go. We'll circle around to the back! I refuse to believe this nursing home doesn't have a single crack for even a fly to slip through!"
The two of them trampled through patchy dead grass, searching along the towering outer wall of the nursing home.
After circling halfway around, Gemma's eyes lit up. Behind a dense, impenetrable thicket, she discovered an abandoned drainage hole—just barely large enough for one person to crawl through.
On the other side was the steel fence surrounding the nursing home's inner garden.
"Quick! Crawl through!"
The two of them pushed forward with all their might, using both hands and feet to squeeze through the hole.
Their clothes were torn by branches, their faces smeared with dirt. They didn't care.
They gripped the iron railings of the garden, gasping for breath, eyes like starving wolves staring inside.
This spot faced the nursing home's central garden lawn. They could clearly see patients inside coming out to sunbathe and take walks.
"Stay here! We'll wait right here!"
Preston gritted his teeth.
"Right. Wait for that old hag to come out! Once we've got her, Lucinda won't dare disobey!"
Time ticked by, second by second.
The blazing sun rose higher, beating down on them until they were dizzy and drenched in sweat.
They were hungry and thirsty, but they still kept their eyes locked on every figure crossing the lawn.
They waited for half a day.
Finally, at the corner of the garden corridor, a familiar figure appeared.
Cleo sat in a high-end wheelchair, a large plaid wool blanket draped over her lap. A professional private nurse carefully pushed her forward.
Her complexion was rosy. Clearly, she'd been receiving the finest care Starlight City had to offer.
"Mom! It's Mom!" Gemma's eyes lit up instantly. She clung to the iron railing, shaking it frantically with excitement.
She tore her hoarse voice open, shouting without a care for dignity. "Mom! I'm over here! Look at me!"
The sudden shriek shattered the garden's tranquility.
In the wheelchair, Cleo's body stiffened slightly.
She slowly turned her head, following the sound.
When she saw Preston and Gemma—faces filthy with grime—beyond the fence, Cleo's previously kind expression instantly darkened.
These shameless creatures actually dared to chase her all the way here!
A deep flash of disgust crossed Cleo's eyes.
She didn't even want to look at them—it dirtied her vision. She turned her head and coldly instructed the nurse behind her. "Lucy, ignore the lunatics outside. Unlucky. Take me back to my room to rest."
"Of course." The nurse nodded and began turning the wheelchair around.
Seeing Cleo about to leave, Preston and Gemma panicked completely!
If they let her go now, wouldn't all the suffering they'd endured under the sun for half the day be for nothing?
The Wipere Group was on the brink of collapse. They couldn't afford to wait!
"Mom! Don't go! You can't just leave us to die!" Gemma stomped her foot desperately. Watching the wheelchair move farther and farther away, her mind raced. To trick Cleo into coming over, she shouted loudly, "Mom! It's Cindy! Cindy's in trouble! Cindy got into a terrible car accident! She's in the hospital being resuscitated right now—she might not make it!"
That piece of information hit Cleo's fatal weak spot dead-on.
"Cindy's in trouble?" Cleo's face turned deathly pale in an instant.
"What did you say?" Her voice trembled. "What happened to Cindy?"
Gemma's heart skipped a beat. The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she continued fabricating wildly. "Come over here first. It's complicated. You need to come closer so I can explain properly!"
Cleo nodded repeatedly, gripping the wheelchair's armrest tightly. Her voice rose sharply in command.
"Lucy! Quick! Stop!" Cleo's hands trembled. "Quick! Push me over there! I need to find out what's going on! What happened to my Cindy?"
"Mrs. Adams, please don't panic! Be careful of your health!"
The nurse was startled by Cleo's sudden outburst of panic. Not daring to delay, she quickly turned the wheelchair around and pushed the terrified, frantic Cleo rapidly toward the iron fence.
Outside the fence, seeing Cleo finally take the bait, Gemma and Preston exchanged a glance. At the same time, a cold, sinister, triumphant smirk flashed in their eyes.
The wheelchair came to an abrupt halt in front of the iron fence.
Cleo's face was ashen, her eyes filled with terror and anxiety. Her voice trembled urgently. "Gemma! Explain yourself clearly! What happened to Cindy? Which hospital is she in?"
But before Cleo could react—
Gemma's hand—filthy with mud and sweat—shot through the gaps in the iron fence and clamped down viciously on the old woman's frail, bony wrist!
The force was shocking, nearly crushing the old woman's bones.
"Mom!" She leaned in close, the urgency she'd just faked completely gone from her eyes. "Don't rush off. I have something to say to you."
Cleo's wrist throbbed with pain. Instinctively, she tried to pull it back.
But Gemma's fingers clamped down too tightly, her nails nearly digging into Cleo's flesh.
"You…" Cleo frowned, her voice sinking. "Let go."
"I won't." Not only did Gemma not loosen her grip, she leaned in even closer.
She stared hard at Cleo, her voice a low, teeth-grinding hiss. "Mom! Stop playing dumb! That bitch Lucinda is perfectly fine. She's not in any accident! The ones in trouble are us—the Wipere family!"
"Let me tell you—you're handing over all your inheritance to me today! I'm your real daughter! Allegra is your real granddaughter! What the hell is Lucinda? Why should you leave all your money to her?"
Cleo's body shook violently.
Hearing that Cindy wasn't in any danger, the weight hanging over Cleo's heart finally dropped.