GIFT Chapter 279

Maeve froze, her hands suspended in the air. Stunned, she asked, "Do you think I couldn't stand Horace and deliberately let him in?"

Did they think everything Horace had done was fake?

Scott looked dispirited. "Maeve, now that your brother has suffered, you should be satisfied. Five years in prison. Don't tell me you want to ruin your brother's life? I beg you, let Horace out." Valda suddenly coughed violently, covering her mouth. The coughing fit was severe; threads of blood dripped from her fingers to the floor. The red was shocking.

Maeve's eyes widened. Seeing Valda faint, her mind went blank.

Half an hour later, at a nearby private hospital, after Valda emerged from the emergency room, she was wheeled into a ward. Maeve sat by the bed, her face as pale as paper. She was still reeling from the doctor's diagnosis: mid-stage lung cancer. Valda needed extensive recuperation before surgery; otherwise, she might not live past the year. Why was this happening? She'd always thought her parents would live more comfortably without her at home.

Scott sighed, standing beside her. "Before I went to find you, your mother kept telling me not to tell you. She was afraid you'd worry. Her health hasn't been good for the past two years. She even had to work hard because of your brother. It's worsened her condition."

Maeve bit her lip. "Then why didn't you tell me?" She still used the same phone number.

Scott explained, "I lost my job four years ago and went into debt. Our family's finances worsened. Your mother and I endured hardships, and we survived. But you and Horace are still young. You shouldn't suffer with us."

She was silent for a moment. "How much more do you owe?"

Scott rubbed his hands. "Your mother and I have already repaid some. We still owe $200,000." That, plus Valda's treatment, would total at least $400,000—a sum beyond their means.

Maeve closed her eyes. "I'll pay for the medical fees and surgery."

"Then the debt...?"

"It's not my obligation," Maeve said calmly. She wouldn't take on all their debt just because Scott played the victim. She was generous enough to pay for the medical expenses and surgery.

She stood, retrieving a bank card from her bag. "There's $100,000 here. It should be enough for the hospital."

Seeing her about to leave, Scott stopped her. "Maeve, what about your brother? When do you plan to release him?"

Maeve paused, looking at him. "I didn't put him in prison. I have no right to release him. If you'd raised him better, he wouldn't be in this situation."

She turned and left. Scott's expression changed instantly. He muttered a curse, "How unfilial! She's ruthless! If I'd known..." He stopped, glancing around. Even alone, he dared not continue.

After leaving the hospital, Maeve walked in a daze. Was she too cruel? $400,000 was manageable; it would solve her parents' immediate problems. But she couldn't forget their past treatment of her. Logically, she should understand; emotionally, she couldn't forgive them. She didn't want to be forced to do anything just because they were family, but she craved their love.

She laughed at herself. No wonder people said they spent their lives chasing what they couldn't get.

Suddenly, a sharp horn blared. Maeve looked up to see a car speeding toward her. Goosebumps rose as she dodged. The car swerved onto the roadside, brushing her right leg. She fell, and the car sped off.

Maeve wanted to yell at the reckless driver. Byron, witnessing the accident, had his driver stop the car. He rushed to the roadside. Maeve gritted her teeth, clutching her knee. Before she could react to the pain, she was enveloped in a warm embrace, smelling the scent of cedarwood.

She looked up, shocked, to see Byron's handsome face. With a dark expression, he lifted her into the car and gently seated her.

"Where are you hurt?" His expression was tense and angry; his eyes dark and cold. Maeve winced, her brows furrowed. "My right knee. It hurts."

Byron pursed his lips, rolling up her trouser leg. Her knee was bruised; blood was visible beneath the skin.

"Can't you be more careful? Don't you know how to avoid oncoming cars?" Byron frowned, his tone serious. (The FindNovel.net advertisement is removed here.)

Maeve, already upset, started to cry after his scolding. "How was I supposed to know the car would suddenly swerve? I wasn't deliberately hit. I was just thinking and wasn't paying attention."

"What were you thinking about?"

"My parents..." She stopped, swallowing her words.

Byron looked at her intently. "What happened with your parents?"

Maeve turned away. "Nothing."

Byron didn't press. He fetched ice, wrapping it in a towel before gently applying it to her injury. Maeve gasped at the cold, clenching her fists to resist the urge to move.

"You saw your parents just now?" Byron asked.

"How did you know?" Maeve blurted out, then clamped her mouth shut.

Byron looked at her wound, his voice hoarse. "Though your methods with Horace were immature, they were efficient. Why the hesitation with your parents?" He knew what the Reese family had done. "You're seeking your parents' love, aren't you?"

Maeve became indignant. "That's not the same! Besides, you always—"

"No," Byron said calmly. "I don't care about those things."

"But I do," Maeve clenched her fists, pain evident. "If you'd grown up in the McDaniel family, your parents would have loved you. But mine never did."