He noticed my frown. “Emily’s heart still needs surgery. You have to be prepared mentally.”
“When Charles came back, I told him there was a suitable heart match. Did he tell you?”
Have you told him?!
I was stunned. “When?”
He thought for a moment. “About three years ago.”
Three years ago.
Suddenly I remembered—we had reached out to each other then.
When I asked about Emily’s condition, his voice was indifferent, like it wasn’t his problem.
“I checked. No suitable treatment for now. We can only manage it conservatively.”
Then he hung up.
It felt like a lightning strike.
There was a suitable heart match all along. Why did he hide it? Why did he let Emily suffer for three long years?
I closed my eyes, tears slipping down my cheeks.
He didn’t just not care about me—he disregarded Emily’s life.
My phone suddenly rang. It was Charles.
I answered, heart heavy with disappointment and hate. His voice came through cold and commanding.
“Hurry home and pack your things. Don’t think you can get away with anything just because I agreed to let Emily enter the family registry.”