Chapter 53
Caroline looked at Heidi in silence.
She observed that striking face, now flushed with anger yet still carrying a certain defiance, without any trace of ugly distortion.
The bitterness from seven years of marriage completely dissipated in this moment, leaving only a cold calmness.
"Heidi," Caroline said, her voice a cold whisper, "I rely on my own genuine abilities, not on any man's favor."
With that, she walked past Heidi and headed straight for the coat check. She retrieved her clutch, the velvet texture cool to the touch.
Stepping out through the hotel's brilliant entrance, the late autumn night wind hit her face with its piercing chill, instantly sweeping away the warm perfumes and stale air from the banquet hall.
Caroline wrapped her coat tighter and quickly walked toward the curb to hail a cab.
Sitting in the taxi, she gave her address, and only then did her spine—tense all evening—finally relax, as exhaustion silently washed over her like a tide.
Outside the window, the city sparkled with light, neon signs leaving blurred, receding traces on the glass.
Her phone began vibrating in her bag, the buzzing particularly distinct in the quiet cab. She took it out, the screen's light making her squint.
She stared at the familiar number from the Windsor Villa landline, her fingertip hovering above the screen, hesitating to answer.
The vibration persisted stubbornly. Finally, just before it would automatically disconnect, she swiped to answer.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
The voice coming through wasn't the housekeeper Nina's, but Layla's, heavy with tears. In the background, another child's suppressed, uncomfortable whimpering could be heard.
Caroline's heart sank.
"Layla? What's wrong? Take your time."
"Logan... Logan has a fever again! He's burning up! He keeps crying... Daddy... Daddy's not answering his phone... Nina said we should go to the hospital, but Logan refuses..."
Layla was crying so hard she could barely speak coherently.
Caroline closed her eyes. Logan had a weak constitution; seasonal fevers were common, but each episode turned the household upside down.
"Mommy," Layla sobbed, catching her breath, "Logan is asking for you... can you come home?"
From the other end, Nina's anxious coaxing and Logan's distressed crying could be faintly heard.
Caroline remained silent. The chaotic crying on the other end of the line tugged at her nerves like tiny hooks.
The lights and shadows from outside the window flickered across her face. A few seconds felt like an eternity.
She opened her eyes, the exhaustion in them covered by something deeper.
"Layla, listen to me." Her voice, transmitted through the phone, was remarkably calm. "Tell Nina to take Logan to the hospital immediately. Go to the children's hospital emergency room and ask for Dr. Morris—he knows Logan's condition."
"I'll be back first thing tomorrow morning. Now, put Nina on the phone."
There was rustling on the other end, and soon Nina's voice came through, filled with apology and anxiety. "Mrs. Windsor, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Logan Windsor has a high fever and keeps asking for you, I—"
"Nina, calm down," Caroline interrupted her, her tone brooking no argument, "do as I said and take Logan to the hospital now. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Yes, yes, right away!" Nina responded quickly.
The call ended. Caroline held the phone, its screen illuminating her expressionless face.
The taxi stopped in front of her apartment building. She paid and got out, walking into the cold elevator. Fingerprint unlock, a soft click, and the door opened.
The apartment was completely dark, with only the faint glow of the city outside outlining the blurry contours of furniture.
Without turning on the lights, she tossed the bag containing her light blue formal dress onto the cabinet in the entryway with a dull thud.
Then she walked straight to the living room and collapsed heavily onto the sofa. The soft fabric enveloped her body but couldn't dispel the cold and fatigue seeping from her bones.
In the darkness, she sat quietly for a while. Only the sound of her shallow breathing could be heard.
After some time, she reached out and fumbled for her phone from her bag. The screen lit up again, its glow illuminating her downcast eyelashes.
Her fingertips slid across the screen, switching to silent mode. Then she opened her email.
Her senior colleague Alton's name sat at the top of her unread messages. The subject was simple: [Experimental Data (First Batch)].
The moment she opened it, dense charts, parameters, and technical terms filled the entire screen. Those cold, rigorous symbols—representing unknown territories and countless days and nights of hard work—emitted a soft glow in the darkness.
Caroline leaned forward slightly, her fingers sliding across the screen, zooming in and out, going through it line by line.
The screen's light became the only source of illumination in the pitch-black room, highlighting her focused profile and the barely noticeable, not yet completely dry trace of moisture at the corner of her eye.
Before the phone screen dimmed, a notification sound for a new message rang out, piercing the deathly silence of the living room. Caroline swiped open the screen.
She saw a screenshot posted in her WhatsApp Status with the text: [Good things come to those who wait!] The image showed Arthur with his arm around Heidi, against the backdrop of a busy hospital corridor.
Heidi's cheeks had a sickly flush as she nestled in Arthur's embrace, smiling at the camera with gentle sweetness.
Heidi's caption read: [Feeling a bit of a headache, thankful for my Mr. Windsor who insisted on accompanying me to the doctor!]
Headache?
Caroline looked at these words and suddenly felt like laughing.
So that was it. No wonder Layla said her father wasn't answering his phone. It turned out her father was busy accompanying their dear Heidi for her "headache."
The slight, insignificant guilt she had felt for not being able to be with her son immediately now evaporated at the sight of this photo, leaving not even a trace of ash.
How ridiculous. Heidi just had a headache, yet her husband abandoned his own feverish son to accompany her.
And her? Cancer. Her days were numbered. Yet like some cosmic joke, she kept this secret to herself, sitting in an empty apartment, watching her husband's loving performance with another woman.
And the children? When they needed her, they cried for "Mommy," but when they didn't, they gathered around Heidi, affectionately calling her "Ms. White."
What had she given to this family? And what had she received in return?
Cheap. Everything about her was cheap in their eyes.
Caroline turned off her phone and tossed it to the other end of the sofa.
Enough. It was truly enough. She would no longer compromise.
To hell with the Windsor Group, to hell with family. Her remaining days were few—she needed to live for herself.
To be able to invest her final value and time into medicine, her lifelong passion... at least then this life wouldn't have been lived in vain.