After I was moved to a private room, the two of them finally appeared. Agatha stood beside the bed, clinging to Frederick's arm with a look of helpless distress. Rage boiled through me. I glared at them both with every ounce of hatred I had.
"I'm so sorry, sis. It was an accident. I grabbed the wrong one. It's all my fault. Whatever you need while you recover, I'll do it." Agatha's face was the portrait of remorse. She clutched my ice-cold hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I wrenched my hand free with what little strength I had and turned away. Watching these two wolves perform their little act made my stomach turn.
I lay in that hospital bed, hollowed out. Frederick made a few perfunctory arrangements and left.
"Agatha just got back. I need to get her settled in. Libby, you focus on resting."
As if the child he'd lost wasn't his. I couldn't detect a single trace of grief in him. The coldness of it left me speechless. I spent the next few days recovering alone.
But the sterile chill of the hospital was more than I could bear. I asked to go home to recuperate. Frederick said he needed to finish looking after Agatha first. I shook my head in quiet disappointment.