CHAPTER 71: CHAPTER 71: LITTLE NEPHEW ABUSED

Victoria Sinclair felt as if her heart was being torn apart. Her eyes filled with tears instantly; she clenched her fists in anger, her body trembling.

Her little nephew was only four years old, doted on by his grandparents since he was born. He was already a picky eater and grew up frail and thin.

Her sister-in-law, weighing nearly two hundred pounds, was tall and strong. If she lost her temper and hit little Ze, she might not know her own strength, and it could very well cost the child’s life.

Victoria Sinclair helped Timothy Sinclair up and seated him on another long bench. She pulled out a tissue from her backpack to wipe his tears. "Brother, don’t be afraid. Children’s vitality is very strong. Ze will be fine, trust me."

Timothy Sinclair buried his face in his hands. "I don’t even dare to tell Mom and Dad right now."

As soon as these words came out, they immediately angered Molly, who shouted, "It’s all your parents’ fault. What kind of senior tour requires a week? Leaving such a big family to me alone, no one to cook, no one to wash clothes, no one to mop the floor. No one to pick up the child. I also have to help with kindergarten homework. He’s both dumb and naughty. I’m exhausted every day, and you’re always running out."

Timothy Sinclair angrily asked, "If I didn’t run out, who would pay back the debt? Who would cover living expenses? Who would pay for Ze’s tuition? Can you earn money?"

Molly justified herself, "I have to look after the family. How can I make money?"

Timothy Sinclair laughed through his tears, sneering, "You look after the family? Mom and Dad have been away for five days, and you’ve only mopped the floor once. The clothes were left in the washing machine without being hung; I hung them up when I came back at night. You’ve ordered takeout four days out of five. Ze ate takeout with you after being picked up at night, and you didn’t clean up after eating. The only day you cooked, I washed the dishes when I got home. How busy and tired can you possibly be? Check the house now, it’s chaotic with clothes and toys everywhere. Have you tidied up? I don’t blame you for not doing housework; it doesn’t matter if you don’t help Ze with his homework, but you absolutely cannot hit him! He’s so young... how can he endure your palm?"

"I didn’t hit hard!"

"Even I can’t withstand your fists, and that’s you not hitting hard?"

"Timothy Sinclair, stop shifting the blame."

"Yes, it’s my responsibility; all of it’s my responsibility." Timothy Sinclair pounded his chest painfully, choking as he spoke.

Victoria Sinclair listened to their heated argument and understood the cause. She quietly took out her phone and dialed the police, "Hello, I need to report an incident."

The moment she spoke, Molly went berserk, darting over to snatch away Victoria’s phone and smashing it on the ground with force.

"Bang" — a shocking loud noise, and the phone screen went black.

Victoria Sinclair and Timothy Sinclair were both frozen in shock.

"Try reporting to the police," Molly snarled, pointing at Victoria Sinclair with a menacing look.

Timothy Sinclair was also in a panic. He retrieved the broken phone and handed it back to Victoria, pleading helplessly, "Sister, she’s Ze’s mom, she can’t go to jail."

Victoria Sinclair placed the damaged phone back into her backpack and looked at Timothy with great sorrow, "Brother, even if it’s an outsider being abused, we shouldn’t just sit by and do nothing. We can’t aid evil. Moreover, Ze is our family, he’s only four years old, and has suffered such serious harm. We cannot tolerate domestic violence."

Molly was flustered, angry, yet anxious, "I just momentarily lost control and hit my own son. He’s my son; what mother doesn’t love her son? You’re an outsider; stop meddling in our family affairs."

Timothy Sinclair sorrowfully pleaded, "Sister, she’s Ze’s mother, she can’t go to jail. If she goes to jail, it will affect Ze’s future. He can’t grow up without a mom; I promise she won’t dare hit Ze again."

Victoria Sinclair appeared gentle and kind, but inside, she was incredibly resilient and firm, "There’s only zero or countless times for domestic violence. If she couldn’t control her temper this time, she won’t next time either. Brother, Ze is your son; if you don’t protect him, whom else can he trust?"

Timothy Sinclair: "Ze still has me and our parents. From now on, we won’t leave his side for even a moment."

At that moment, the door to the operating room opened, and a doctor came out.

Victoria Sinclair hurriedly stepped forward and politely inquired, "Doctor, how is my nephew?"

Molly and Timothy Sinclair rushed over to the doctor.

Molly angrily pulled Victoria Sinclair aside, pushing her back two steps, nearly causing her to fall.

Molly, tense, asked, "Doctor, how’s my son? Has he woken up? Is he okay?"

The doctor frowned, glanced at Timothy Sinclair and Molly, and said displeased, "The child appears to have been abused, with multiple bruises on his body. His arm is fractured, and there’s blood in his brain. But we’ve already made a small incision to relieve the pressure. There’s no immediate threat to his life. He should regain consciousness after the anesthesia wears off. However, I suggest you report this to the police."

Molly’s face turned pale, and she anxiously waved her hands, "No need, no need, thank you, doctor."

Timothy Sinclair clenched his fists, enduring it. If someone else dared to abuse his son like this, he’d risk everything to get back at them. However, as it’s the child’s mother—his wife—he had to put up with it, no matter how indignant he felt.

Victoria Sinclair stood at the side; hearing that Ze was alright, she finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Ze was moved from the operating room directly to a regular ward.

He had a fracture brace on his little arm, his head wrapped in bandages, and his frail little body was covered with bruises that, though faded, still pained those who saw them.

After the anesthesia wore off, Ze woke up.

Upon seeing Molly, he reacted by crying, his eyes filled with fear, shuffling towards the corner of the bedhead, "Mom, I won’t do it again. Mom, don’t hit me."

Timothy Sinclair covered his face, suppressing his sobs, his heavy shoulders shaking continuously.

Molly squeezed out a gentle smile, soft-spoken and in a loving tone, "Ze, don’t be scared. Mom made a mistake; Mom won’t hit you anymore."

Ze was still afraid. Spotting Victoria Sinclair standing by the edge of the bed, he immediately crawled up and threw himself, kneeling, into her arms. "Auntie, help me."

With tears in her eyes, Victoria Sinclair, for the sake of Ze’s future prospects and well-being and to help him overcome his trauma, was willing to momentarily hold back her disdain for Molly’s actions. She gently patted Ze’s shoulder, softly murmuring, "Ze, don’t be scared, mom didn’t mean it, she..."

Molly didn’t appreciate Victoria speaking on her behalf, instead becoming angry. She grabbed Ze’s uninjured hand and yanked him out of Victoria’s embrace.

Ze was terrified, crying loudly, struggling in fear, prompting the doctors and nurses to rush over.

Timothy Sinclair detached Molly’s hold.

Victoria Sinclair quickly wrapped Ze in her arms, constantly soothing his anxious, uneasy mood.

The doctor entered, wrathful at the scene before him, "The child just had surgery. Let him rest well. Leave one adult here to look after him; the rest, please leave."

Molly hurriedly patted her chest, stating, "I’m the child’s mother. Let me stay here to care for him."

Ze cried even harder, his face full of tears, trembling in Victoria Sinclair’s embrace, "I don’t want Mom. Mom hits me, I want Auntie, I want Auntie..."

Molly cried, both aggrieved and jealous, suppressing her anger, "Ze, I am your mom."

The doctor, a reasonable person, quickly understood the origins of the child’s injuries by merely looking. In a calm voice, he said, "Alright, the child’s parents should go home and let Auntie take care of him in the hospital. The child’s emotions must be stable to facilitate physical recovery."

Timothy Sinclair looked at Victoria Sinclair with guilt, "Sister, I’ll leave it to you."

Victoria Sinclair gently replied, "Brother, it’s no trouble. You and Sister-in-law go home and rest. I’ll handle things with Ze."

Timothy Sinclair turned, grabbed Molly’s arm, and led her away.

Molly muttered under her breath, "All a pack of ingrates. You’re the biggest ingrate, and your son’s a little one at that. He wants an outsider instead of me, his own mom. I gave birth to him in vain."

"You’re always on your phone endlessly scrolling videos. It’s our parents taking care of the child; yet now you complain that he’s not close to you? Aren’t you ashamed?"

"Why should I be ashamed? I carried him for ten months and gave birth to him."

The arguing sounds gradually faded down the hallway outside.

Victoria Sinclair tenderly caressed Ze’s head, wiped away his tears, and laid him down on the bed.

Ze’s uninjured hand held onto Victoria Sinclair’s clothes, his watery eyes showing a hint of fear, "Auntie, don’t go, I’m so scared."

"Auntie won’t leave." Victoria Sinclair sat directly on the edge of the bed, leaning her back against the headboard, careful not to touch his bandaged head, and instead placed her arm over his.