The white pills scattered on the ground haven’t been picked up yet.
A few drops of blood splattered from Daisy Ginger’s wrist landed on Charlotte Smith, as the man’s gaze moved slowly from the pills on the ground upward, landing on her clothes. His pupils contracted slightly, yet he didn’t pause as he walked towards the door.
"Second Young Master," Charlotte Smith spoke with trepidation, she stepped forward and bowed her head in front of Edward Stephens, "I’m sorry, I messed up... Miss Ginger got hurt, I..."
She was truly panicked and felt guilty. If she could have come over immediately to replace the medicine when Edward called, maybe things wouldn’t have escalated to this extent.
She was caught red-handed right in front of Daisy Ginger!
Daisy Ginger was either furious, or close to it.
The man had rushed over, his emotions already sorted out, and at this moment, his expression was calm. He glanced at the blood on Charlotte Smith’s body and asked, "Are you okay?"
"I’m fine, it’s Miss Ginger..."
Charlotte Smith shook her head, her face full of panic. Edward Stephens withdrew his gaze and said to Charlotte Smith, "Go get a medical kit, I’ll handle this here."
"She needs to go to the hospital!" Charlotte Smith exclaimed urgently, "The wound on her hand is too deep, it needs stitching!"
Edward Stephens’ eyes darkened slightly, he didn’t say anything else, just turned around and walked into the bedroom.
The floor was covered in blood.
Drip by drip, it flowed continuously to the front of the dressing table.
A blood-stained eyebrow trimmer was casually thrown onto the floor, the sunlight gently refracted sharp light off its blade.
Edward Stephens fixed his gaze on the woman sitting in front of the dressing table, smoking and enveloped in clouds.
Her face was pale due to blood loss, even her lips appeared bluish, her frizzy hair falling in curls over her shoulders, strands wet with blood stuck together on her shoulders. The whole of her appeared to be sitting in the sunlight as if she had just been fished out of a pool of blood.
Daisy Ginger didn’t look at him, only stared into the void, expressionlessly smoking, several cigarette butts already strewn on the ground.
Edward Stephens walked over, came to her side, and reached out to hold her injured wrist, stopping her smoking motion, his tone and demeanor both calm and gentle.
"If you’re angry, vent it on me, but don’t harm yourself."
Daisy Ginger’s hand had stopped bleeding, her emotions had quieted down under the influence of nicotine. She didn’t feel pain, but still, how could she not be angry, how could she not hurt?
She might indeed have been driven mad by this man.
She raised her head, her eyes clear as glass, fixing them on the man’s handsome face, his deep-set brows, his unperturbed demeanor, showing no sign of sadness or guilt. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍
Still as graceful as ever.
Standing amidst the blood stains, yet remaining as dignified as always.
Daisy Ginger looked at him for a few moments, raised her hand to free herself from his grip, took another deep draw on the cigarette butt, and said evenly and calmly, "I won’t keep this child, nor will I stay."
Edward Stephens watched her, still with that calm and steady demeanor, reaching out to stub her cigarette.
"Don’t smoke," he said, "If you’re angry, stabbing me a few times would be fine, but don’t harm our child."
Daisy Ginger shook her head, "I won’t give birth."
She said this with a tone more composed than his, dodging his hand and looking at him, "I won’t give birth, Edward Stephens, don’t dream."
She wouldn’t indulge in maternal instincts to the point of pitying a child born of such conspiracy.