CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER 52: NO ANESTHESIA—LET HER FEEL THE PAIN THE MADAM ENDURED!

Rhys Hawthorne met her eyes, resembling those of a little rabbit, reddened and large. Four years ago, he knew she had been hurt before, forgetting everything before the age of eight.

He didn’t answer the question and brought over the snow pear and bird’s nest soup she hadn’t eaten.

"The doctor said your body is very weak. Have some food first."

"No, I..."

Before Victoria Monroe could refuse, the man had already placed the spoon against her chapped lips.

His voice was soft, imbued with innate authority and strength, "Take a sip, the nurse is very busy at this moment."

Victoria was indeed too weak, weakened to the point where she had no strength to argue over such trivial matters.

She took a sip, and her dry throat was slightly soothed by the sweet and rich liquid.

Her pace of eating increased, leading to her choking as she drank too fast. "Cough..."

"Slow down, don’t rush."

The man’s hand fell on her back, his warm large palm patting through her thin clothes.

The cold pine and sandalwood scent, unique to him, swept over her, and his pressed chest shirt brushed past her face.

This fleeting touch made Victoria Monroe gasp for breath.

The lingering fever that hadn’t subsided warmed her cheeks once more.

She hurriedly pulled away from Rhys Hawthorne, "I, I’m fine."

Coincidentally, the bowl was nearly empty. Rhys detected her withdrawal and didn’t approach further.

Even if she signed the divorce agreement, she could only count as half-free.

"I still have some matters to attend to. A care worker will come to look after you shortly, and I’ll check on you later."

"Thank you..."

Before Victoria could finish speaking, Rhys unexpectedly placed his finger against her soft lips.

So soft.

He had personally witnessed during the scene kissing her, finding her lips not only soft but also elastic.

They were like cream, melting at a touch, sweet, and soft, easily triggering dark wishes in the depths of his heart.

Victoria was dumbfounded, not expecting the usually indifferent and aloof Rhys to touch her voluntarily.

Her stunned eyes met his gaze, which was deep and complex, with surging undercurrents. She felt unease and subconsciously held her breath.

"I’ve told you, you don’t need to be so formal with me. We’re friends. You didn’t let go of me back then, and today, I won’t abandon you either."

Back then, while filming they had encountered a landslide. Everyone was focused on escaping. In the chaos, Victoria slipped and fell into the stone cave. Rhys, without a second thought, followed her down.

His leg was injured; Victoria carried him out.

He repeatedly asked her to put him down, but she refused to listen and persisted until the rescue team arrived, ensuring their rescue.

His leg was treated immediately. If treatment had been delayed for another day, the infection would have worsened, possibly leading to amputation.

Withdrawing his finger, his eyes, cast downward, carried complex implications as he spoke slowly, "Ms. Monroe, we have a long future ahead."

Victoria stared at his departing figure, subconsciously clutching the hem of her clothing.

Just now, Rhys’s gaze was like a predator that had been closely surveilling its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

As if at any moment, he would leap forward to viciously tear the prey’s throat apart.

And she was the prey he had fixed his gaze upon.

Victoria felt a bit panicked.

The moment she signed the divorce agreement, it was like breaking the chain called marriage.

She was free now.

It also meant that she had become an object coveted by others.

Rhys gently closed the door, and Dominic Scott approached, "Everything on this side has been communicated well, don’t worry, Third Master."

"Relax?"

Rhys took the prayer beads Assistant Woods handed him, his distinct fingers lightly rubbing them, voice calm, "Don’t forget, to get the divorce certificate now, there’s a thirty-day cooling-off period."

Assistant Woods frowned, "So Julian Fordham won’t let go so easily?"

"Eighteen years of feelings, if it were you, would you let go?"

Rhys’s gaze was deep and resolute, "In today’s situation, without him signing the divorce agreement, Ms. Monroe won’t give up easily."

"Boss, what should we do? Do you want me to..."

"No need to use such low tactics. Just help convey a message to Willis for me, and that’s enough."

"Understood."

In the car.

Julian Fordham took out a medical kit, casually bandaging his wound, "Has everything been negotiated on Willis’s side?"

"Rest assured, I heard he understood your family’s situation and changed the signing time to tomorrow."

Assistant Prescott carefully studied his expression and spoke, "Boss, are you really planning to give up on Mrs. Fordham?"

Julian gazed at the fleeting scenery outside the window, his voice murmuring, "If she’s not there, what does it matter how high I climb?"

He fiddled with the wedding ring, which Victoria Monroe had carefully selected for him as a Valentine’s gift. Even when he later became rich, he never replaced this ring.

As long as this ring remains, he and Victoria will never separate.

Outside, snow fell heavily as the interior of the car felt warm as spring. His eyes were filled with deep emotions, "Victoria, the wrongs are mine to bear, those who bullied you, including me, will be punished."

Rachel Hayes had tricked him into the studio to be deliberately photographed, and changed her profile picture to match his, appearing under fireworks for selfies to provoke Victoria.

Before, he endured for the sake of the child; now he cares nothing for the child, so how could he let her off?

He didn’t lift his head; his voice was icy, "Handle the child in Rachel Hayes’s belly immediately."

"Yes, Boss."

Brightwell Hospital.

Autumn Fordham transferred to the ward, and upon receiving the news, Rachel Hayes also arrived.

"Auntie, what’s wrong with Autumn? We had dinner a couple of days ago and she seemed fine; why did she suddenly cut her wrists?"

Lana Jameson snorted coldly, "What else could it be for? Certainly because of that barren chicken’s curse. If it wasn’t for her introducing that womanizing male celebrity to Autumn, it wouldn’t have harmed her."

Rachel Hayes felt a bit uneasy inside, but her face maintained a forced look of concern, "Auntie, you shouldn’t get angry. If you fall ill, Julian will be worried."

"You’re still the best, gentle and generous, unlike her, never respecting me as her mother-in-law. You call me aunt which is so distant, we’re all family now, call me mom."

Rachel Hayes shyly called out, "Mom..."

As soon as her words fell, a person kicked open the door, startling the two women into immediately glancing at the newcomer.

Two bodyguards dressed in suits, muscular and towering, entered without a word.

Rachel Hayes felt a bad premonition and quickly hid behind Lana Jameson.

One of them grabbed her hand and pulled her outside, without a trace of tenderness.

"What are you doing? I’m Mrs. Fordham, and you dare to be so rude?"

The two were well-trained, without wasting words, grabbing her and walking out.

Rachel Hayes also guessed it, that outside were Fordham family bodyguards, obviously sent by Julian Fordham.

She was still pregnant, yet they were so rough, completely disregarding the child in her belly.

Could it be...

Panic struck her heart as she guessed their intentions—they were here to abort her child!

"Mom, they want to kill my child."

Upon hearing this, Lana Jameson quickly chased after.

Before an abortion, checks and assessments are always performed, not immediate surgery.

Yet the other party disregarded everything, forcefully dragging her to the operating room.

Clearly indifferent to her life and death!

The doctor reminded, "We haven’t done the checkup yet and have no idea if she’s fasted. Anesthesiologist..."

The bodyguard interrupted, "President Fordham instructed no anesthesia."

Rachel Hayes widened her eyes, "What... what did you say?"

Not only did they intend to make her go through an abortion, but they wouldn’t even allow her to use anesthesia.

The bodyguard violently threw her onto the operating table, looking down at her as he spoke each word, "President Fordham said someone like you doesn’t deserve anesthesia. It’s best you feel all the pain our wife suffered!"