Chapter 631
Carla Ludwig bristled at the threat, her anger flaring as she stormed over and slapped Emma Windsor hard across the face. "You ruined my son! You think I can't curse you out? Cursing isn't enough—I should beat you, too!"
Before her words had even faded, Carla realized one slap wasn’t nearly enough to vent her fury. She lunged at Emma, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and rained down several more stinging slaps.
Emma had tried, truly tried, to hold back for Micah Shepherd’s sake. But Carla’s relentless attack finally snapped her restraint. She fought back, and the two women became locked in a desperate, vicious scuffle.
Most women are gentle, even timid, but when driven by hate, they can be fiercer than any man. Carla yanked out a handful of Emma’s hair; Emma retaliated by shredding Carla’s blouse, nearly exposing her in front of everyone.
The ICU was supposed to be a sanctuary for critically ill patients, a place where any disturbance could be disastrous. But the brawl drew a crowd—some relatives watched with morbid curiosity, others tried to break it up, but neither woman would listen.
The nurses, furious and alarmed, shouted for them to stop, but when that failed, they called security. In the end, it took four or five guards and a few well-meaning family members to finally pry the women apart.
Carla didn’t get away unscathed. Seeing the blood and bruises on her arms, she suddenly remembered—Emma was HIV-positive. A cold wave of fear washed over her, and she rushed off to find a doctor and demand post-exposure medication.
Emma, meanwhile, was still pregnant—remarkably so. The baby she carried seemed nearly indestructible. Sheridan Carter beat her every day, and she fought back just as hard, but still, the child growing inside her clung on, undisturbed. Even after the savage fight with Carla, nothing seemed amiss.
But Emma felt nothing for the child. She didn’t even know who the father was. Most likely, it was during the same encounter that left her infected with HIV that this baby was conceived. How could she not hate this child, growing inside her like a parasite? Still, she kept it—because as long as she was pregnant, she had a chance at temporary freedom. If she lost the baby, she’d be thrown back behind bars.
After Carla left, Emma straightened her torn clothes, completely unfazed by the strangers gawking at her. She pressed herself against the glass window outside the ICU, searching for any sign of Micah.
Chapter 632
But with only a tiny pane to look through, she couldn’t tell which patient was him. All of them were pale, frail figures tangled in wires and tubes, their lives held together by humming machines.
Emma stared, lost in thought, and for a moment, she actually envied Micah. She’d fallen so far—betrayed, abandoned, utterly alone. Sometimes she wished she could simply die and be done with it. But she lacked the courage, and besides, she couldn’t bear to go out without answers or revenge.
She wanted payback—against everyone who’d ever hurt her.
The Windsor family, especially Ivy Windsor.
The Carter family, and above all, Sheridan Carter.
Even the Ludwigs—she wouldn’t spare them either.
She had nothing left to lose. If it cost her this ruined life to drag even one of them down to hell with her, she’d consider it worth it.
When Ivy heard that Adela Ludwig had fallen ill again and been hospitalized, she left campus and rushed home—not out of any desire to play the dutiful daughter-in-law, but because she was worried about Jamison Ludwig. He’d been running himself ragged lately, and she wanted to share the burden.
After they visited his mother, Jamison asked her to spend the afternoon nearby and promised they’d have dinner together that evening. She hadn’t seen her husband in two days, and she agreed without hesitation.
As Ivy stepped out of the hospital lobby and started down the front steps, she ran straight into Emma—an encounter she never expected.
At first, Ivy thought she must be mistaken. Emma was so gaunt now, her cheeks hollowed out. Whether it was illness or Sheridan’s relentless abuse, Ivy couldn’t be sure.
She knew Emma hated her. She also knew Emma was HIV-positive. The moment their eyes met, Ivy instinctively tried to avoid her—not out of guilt or fear, but simply because there was no point tangling with someone so desperate. If she got hurt, the consequences could be disastrous.
Ivy quickly turned back and reentered the hospital, hoping to give Emma the slip.
But Emma had already spotted her and broke into a run, calling out, “Ivy!” Her voice was ragged, furious, as if she’d come to collect a debt.
Ivy’s expression darkened, and she quickened her pace. Just then, an elevator arrived. Without a moment’s hesitation, she ducked inside and pressed the button for the upper floors.
Emma rushed after her, but she could only watch as the doors slid shut, leaving her staring at Ivy’s cold, mocking gaze through the narrowing gap.