Chapter 300

Chapter 300

"What is it?"

David paused for a few seconds.

"That whole thing back then—how much do you know?"

"Some. The Sharp family wanted a child, and she played along as the mother."

"There's more to it than that. She wasn't just passively cooperating—she was actively involved. Half of what happened to Juliana had something to do with her."

David gave a brief overview of the past, then mentioned some smaller incidents: "When Damian was three, he had a fever—hit 104 degrees. The nanny called Bianca, but she was out having dinner with people. Said she'd deal with it later. By the time she got back, the kid was already seizing. They got him to the hospital two hours late. That nanny was fired afterward, and Bianca told everyone it was the nanny's negligence."

Chloe set down her cup.

"You knew all this?"

"Some I found out later. Even after I knew, there wasn't much I could say. Back then, Bianca's position in the Sharp family was too solid. Going after her would've meant destabilizing everything."

Chloe stared at the coffee on the table. Didn't drink it.

"So you're telling me all this to convince me not to save her."

"I'm not telling you what to decide. I'm laying out the facts. You judge for yourself."

Chloe leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment.

The image of Bianca lying in that hospital bed rose to the surface—that gaunt, hollow face, the mouth that couldn't speak, the trembling fingers clutching the edge of the blanket.

Did she hate Bianca? Yes.

Did she pity her? Also yes.

"David."

"Yeah."

"Does she deserve to die?"

David didn't answer right away.

"Whether she deserves it or not isn't for us to say. But where she's ended up now…"

He looked out the window.

"Maybe it's the best outcome."

Chloe said nothing more.

……

When Chloe arrived, Juliana was in the living room looking over a prenatal checkup report.

They chatted about the baby for a bit—due date, names they still hadn't decided on—the conversation meandering naturally. Then Chloe went quiet.

Chloe turned her cup around. "I went to the nursing home today."

"To see who?"

"Bianca."

Juliana's hand stopped mid-page.

"What's wrong with her?"

"She's not going to make it. The doctor said six months at most, probably less. She can't eat. When the pain hits, even the painkillers don't work. She screams all night."

Juliana closed the report. "Emily wants to get her euthanasia."

"And then?"

Chloe didn't answer.

Juliana looked at her for two seconds. "You want me to save her."

"I didn't say that."

"You did. You came here. You said all this. That's what you're saying."

Chloe opened her mouth, but didn't argue.

Juliana set her cup down. "Chloe, I can't do it."

"You know what she did to me. The surrogacy thing aside… I'm not someone who holds grudges, but some things aren't about holding grudges. The way she is now—I'll say it bluntly—she brought it on herself."

Chloe didn't argue.

"And it's not just her." Juliana ran her finger along the rim of her cup. "The Hale family. Marcus, Bianca, and everyone who helped broker that whole arrangement back then… not a single person in the Hale family is clean. All those deals Marcus did on the side, using the Sharp family's name to drag how many people down with him?"

She turned to look at Chloe.

"You have history with her. I won't stop you. But I'm not lifting a finger to help."

Chloe stood up.

"I understand."

When she reached the door, Juliana called after her.

"Chloe."

Chloe turned around.

"Don't go back either. Some people are worth caring about. Some aren't. Your soft heart won't change anything. Where she's ended up—it's the path she chose."

Juliana sat on the couch for a while afterward, hand resting on her belly. The baby kicked again, harder than before.

"I know," she murmured. "Mom's not mad."

Juliana took a nap that afternoon. When she woke up, she smelled cooking.

She threw on a cardigan and headed downstairs, stopping in the kitchen doorway.

"Iris?"

Iris turned around.

"Ms. Wells."

Juliana gripped the doorframe, stunned for several seconds.

Iris set down the spatula and wiped her hands on her apron. "Please sit down. Don't stand there in the draft. The kitchen's full of fumes."

"How did you come back?"

Iris glanced toward the living room and lowered her voice. "Mr. Sharp found me two days ago. Called three times before I picked up. Didn't dare answer the first one—thought he was calling to collect something."

"What did he say?"

Iris's expression turned complicated.

"He apologized."

Juliana: "…He? Apologized?"

"Yes. I remember his exact words—'Iris, I handled things poorly last time. Come back.'"

Juliana leaned against the doorframe, silent for a long moment.

Iris continued, "Said the pay was better, and they'd fixed up my room again. I still didn't agree."

"Then how did you end up here?"

"Third call." Iris turned down the heat on the stove. "He said you're pregnant, can't keep food down, and you're not used to Coralie's cooking. Said you used to love my spare ribs and fish soup."

Iris looked at her belly, eyes reddening.

"Ms. Wells, when I left, you'd only just moved in. And now…"

"Iris." Juliana cut her off. "I was wrong too."

Iris froze.

"That day after he and I fought, you were stuck in the middle. When you said you wanted to leave, I didn't stop you. I should have."

"You've been with this family for so long. You're not someone who should've just walked away. I was too emotional back then. I didn't think about how you felt."

Iris stood by the kitchen. She'd worked for the Sharp family for six years.

Juliana was the first person to ever say "I'm sorry" to her.

"Ms. Wells, please don't say that… I'm just a housekeeper. I'm not worth an apology from you."

"You are." Juliana's tone was calm. "You're not 'just a housekeeper.' You're part of this family. Since you've been gone, Damian and Matthew have been asking about your pastries."

Iris wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron.

"All right, all right, don't cry. The ribs are going to burn."

Iris quickly turned back to the stove. Juliana sat down in a chair by the kitchen, watching Iris bustle around.

Four dishes on the table: braised spare ribs, steamed sea bass, chilled okra, and a pot of corn and rib soup. All her old favorites.

"Iris, let the fish soup simmer a bit longer. My appetite's been off lately. Soup goes down easier than solid food."

"I know, I know. I bought it specially."

Juliana got up to leave, then turned back at the kitchen door.

"Iris."

"Mm?"

"Welcome back."

……

Lucas came home at six-thirty.

Juliana sat at the dining table, a full spread in front of her, ladling soup into a bowl.

"You're back?"

"Yeah."

He walked over and sat down. "How much did you eat?"

"A bowl of soup, half a bowl of rice." Juliana reported voluntarily. "Two spare ribs."

Lucas didn't say anything. He picked up his utensils.

After a few bites, Juliana set down her spoon and looked at him.

"When did you go find Iris?"

"Last week."

"Called three times?"

"Yeah."

"And apologized?"

Lucas's hand paused for a second. "She told you."

"She did. Word for word. Didn't leave anything out."

"Lucas."

"Yeah."

"What was your expression like when you apologized? I can't picture it."

"Eat."

Juliana laughed softly and didn't press further.

Iris brought out a plate of cut fruit from the kitchen and set it on the edge of the table. Seeing Lucas and Juliana eating together, she stepped back and turned to go back to the kitchen.

Halfway there, she heard Juliana call out, "Iris, you eat too."

"I can eat in the kitchen."

"Come sit."

Iris hesitated, then sat at the corner of the table.

Lucas didn't look up, but pushed a dish in her direction.

The meal wasn't exactly lively, but the atmosphere at the table was different from the past few months.

After dinner, Juliana went back to the bedroom to lie down. Before Lucas went upstairs to his study, he stopped by the bedroom door and glanced in.

"Can you still eat?"

"I'm stuffed."

"Then I'll have Iris make two fewer dishes tomorrow."

"Don't. We finally got her back. Don't drive her away again."

Lucas looked at her.

"Lucas."

"What."

"Thank you."

He stood in the doorway. "Don't thank me. Her spare ribs really are better than Coralie's."

Juliana lay in bed, the corner of her mouth lifting.

The baby kicked again.

"Your father," Juliana murmured, rubbing her belly, "is stubborn as hell."

Downstairs in the kitchen, Iris finished washing the dishes, cleaned up, and wrote tomorrow's menu on the small whiteboard stuck to the fridge.

After writing it out, she looked it over, then added one more—pastries.

Every day Bianca was alive, she cursed.

Lucas.

Drop dead.

Emily came every afternoon at three, stayed until five.

"Mom."

Bianca's eyes suddenly opened.

Emily set down the fruit knife.

"Pain?"

Bianca shook her head slightly.

"I want to see Dad."

Marcus had been detained for fifteen days on charges of disturbing public order. Since his release, he hadn't seen Bianca.

Marcus had lost weight, his face unshaven.

Emily poured him a glass of water.

"Bee wants to see you."

Marcus took the glass but didn't drink.

"She can still talk?"

"She can. Not much, but she can."

Marcus set the glass on the coffee table. "What am I supposed to do, go watch her die?"

Emily didn't respond to that.

Marcus sat for a while, then buried his face in his hands.

"The euthanasia thing—how far along are you with it?"

Emily pulled out a stack of papers from her bag. "The lawyer says in special cases we can use a simplified process, but the patient has to sign. Bee's hands can't hold a pen anymore. She'll need to use a thumbprint. For the immediate family signature portion, her biological father's gone… You're her father. Your signature is enough."

Marcus flipped through two pages. His hands were shaking.

"Does she agree to it?"

"Haven't asked her."

Marcus looked up at her.

"Ask her first. If she doesn't agree, drop it."

"Will you sign or not?"

Marcus pushed the papers back.

"If she agrees, I'll sign."

……

Bianca wasn't asleep.

The nursing home lights went off at ten. The hallway was still lit. Emily pulled a chair over and sat by the bed.

"Bee."

Bianca's eyes shifted toward her.

"The euthanasia thing. He said if you agree, he'll sign."

Bianca's lips moved. "Doesn't matter."

Emily's hand tightened on the bed rail.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Living doesn't matter, dying doesn't matter?"

Emily sat there, looking at Bianca's face.

This face used to be so beautiful. When Bianca was eighteen, a talent scout stopped her in a mall, said it would be a waste if she didn't go into acting with looks like hers.

Back then, when Bianca smiled, her eyes curved into crescents, showing two little canines. Everyone on the street would look twice.

Now this face was no longer her Bianca.

"Bee, Mom's going to ask you something."

"In this life… what's the last thing you want to do?"

A sound came from Bianca's throat, like a laugh or a cough.

"Mom, I've lived my whole life confused."

Emily said nothing.

"Everything I've ever done… was for someone who didn't love me. I don't know what I should do. Can't think of anything."

Emily's hand covered Bianca's.

"Do you hate him?"

A tear slid from the corner of Bianca's eye, down her temple and into the pillow.

Emily pulled the blanket up, covering Bianca's exposed collarbone.

"Mom understands."

……

Emily left the nursing home and drove to the south side of the city.

She'd never done anything illegal in her life.

The most reckless thing she'd ever done was run a red light on her bicycle when she was young. A traffic cop stopped her and fined her five dollars. She felt guilty about it all day.

But now she was about to do something far more serious than running a red light.

Emily got out of the car and walked into an alley.

The door to the apothecary was rusty sheet metal.

"What do you want?"

"Something for a final rally. The kind that gives someone a few days of energy."

A half-face appeared in the crack of the door. "How old? What condition?"

"Early thirties. Poisoned. Dying."

The door opened.

Inside was a wiry old man. Behind the counter sat a row of bottles and jars with labels Emily couldn't read.

"This stuff—once you take it, you'll be lucid for three to five days. Eat, drink, act like a normal person. But when it wears off…"

The old man made a gesture.

Emily asked, "How much?"

"Forty thousand dollars."

Emily pulled an envelope from her bag and placed it on the counter.

The old man took the money. "Three pills at a time, half an hour after meals. First day you might throw up. After that, you'll be fine. Remember—five days max. On the sixth day, the person will be worse than before."

Emily tucked the porcelain bottle into her coat's inner pocket and turned to leave.

Back in the car, she took out the bottle and placed it on the passenger seat, staring at it for a long time.

The next afternoon, Emily arrived at the nursing home at three as usual.

She hid the porcelain bottle in the insulated cup's inner compartment and brought it in.

Emily closed the door and pulled the curtain.

She took the porcelain bottle from the cup, peeled off the wax seal, and poured three pills into her palm.

"Bee, open your mouth."

"Medicine."

Bianca didn't ask what kind. She opened her mouth. Emily placed the three pills inside, then gave her two sips of warm water.

Bianca swallowed.

Emily resealed the bottle and tucked it back into the cup.

She sat by the bed, holding Bianca's hand, waiting.