Chapter 42
Mandy was at a loss for words. She wanted to ice them out, but nothing seemed apt enough. The way these people kept escalating their insults made her want to cry.
But Grace simply pulled open the car door and got in.
“Mandy, get in,” she said.
Mandy climbed into the car with a sigh.
Behind them, the farmers swept their brooms in jubilation, as if they had just rid themselves of a plague. Seeing this scene in the rear-view mirror, Mandy nearly spat out blood in rage. She couldn’t hold it in any longer, and her tears spilled over.
Exhausted from a sleepless night, even the middle-aged driver in the front seat clutched the steering wheel with reddened eyes. He, too, was crying.
Who wouldn’t feel devastated? Pouring your heart into something, only to have it trampled on. Worse yet, Grace was being accused of crimes she never committed. Grace sat by the window and watched the scenery blur past. The sound of their sobbing filled the car, making her sigh in exasperation.
“Stop crying,” she thought.
But Mandy was too far gone. Blowing her nose into a tissue, she stifled a sob. “I’m just… I’m just so angry! I’ve never been treated like this in my whole life! That Alice is such a…” She choked back another sob. “Such a… vile… Can you believe it? Is this what your life in the Lambert family has been like? Everyone sides with her, no matter what? No wonder your reputation is so bad.” She struggled to find the right words to respond.
That was exactly how she had lived in the Lambert residence, but she had been part of the problem too, back then. She had been too eager to please and too desperate for approval. That was what had landed her in this mess.
She shut her eyes, but a small tug at her sleeve made her open them again. Mandy’s voice was thick with congestion. “Your knee is infected. Does it hurt a lot?”
“It’s not that bad,” Grace replied. “Come on, stop crying. This isn’t the end of the road. Let me think it through once we get back to the hotel. There’s always a way forward.”
Mandy sniffled a few more times before finally quieting down.
Back at the hotel, Grace forced herself to take a quick shower. The metallic tang clinging to her skin was finally washed away. However, her knee looked even worse now. The wounds were swollen and angry. Just as she was about to ask the front desk for a first-aid kit, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find a man in a white coat standing outside.
“Ms. Lamberti, Mr. Henderson sent me to check on your leg.”
She hadn’t seen him since last night and hadn’t been in contact when he returned earlier. How did he know she was injured? Her gaze flickered past the doctor toward the door across the hall. It was shut, with nothing to see.
She made her way back to sit on the bed with a slight limp. The doctor carried in a large medical kit, put on gloves, and began treating her wounds. When he pulled out the embedded stone, she paled. It wasn’t until the medicine was applied that she finally unclenched her jaw, her tightly knitted brow relaxing slightly. Sweat had already gathered on her forehead.
The doctor handed her some medication. “Take this. You’re running a fever.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
After he left, she swallowed the medicine. She had barely sat down when the door swung open again. Ellum entered; his expression unreadable. He maneuvered his wheelchair into the room and closed the door behind him. Outside, dusk had settled in. The last rays of sunlight bathed the room in a golden-red glow.
Grace instinctively curled her injured leg. She could still walk, but the pain hadn’t faded. Ethan rolled up beside her and poured her a glass of water. His gaze drifted to her wounded knee. “Feeling wronged?” he asked.
Grace hadn’t thought much of it at first, but people were strange sometimes. They could grit their teeth and endure miles of hardship without a word, only to completely unravel at the smallest gesture of kindness.
Ethan held the water out to her. “Even if the agricultural project fails, Henderson Group will still see the tourism bid through.” He was trying to reassure her, telling her not to feel pressured.
She dug her fingers into her palms, the sharp pain keeping her steady. She looked up. Grace didn’t take the glass; instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and slowly curled her fingers into fists. She said firmly, “I haven’t lost yet. I still have other ways.” Litan’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass, probably without even realizing it herself, but it was captivating. There was something fierce in her eyes—like a spark in a powder keg, moments away from igniting. Ethan halted his gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he sipped the water himself.
Grace let out a chuckle. “Mm. Don’t worry, Mr. Henderson won’t do anything to harm you.” But he had already turned away, his posture straight and composed.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he murmured. For what he was worried about, he wouldn’t say. “Your company’s reputation.”