I Found His Letter, I Ruined His Plan

Chapter 2

The hospital room door opened again.

David carried a brand-new thermal container and gently placed it on the bedside table.

When he saw that she was awake, a flicker of joy crossed his face. His voice was low and gentle. "Sweetheart, how are you feeling? Any discomfort anywhere? I made some soup. It's still warm."

He reached out to touch Linda's forehead, but she turned her head away.

David's hand froze in mid-air. After a few seconds of silence, he slowly withdrew it.

"The doctor said you need rest and must not get emotional," his tone remained gentle, but carried a barely perceptible tension. "We can have another child."

Linda didn't move. Her gaze rested vacantly on the ceiling.

Another child? Like completing a mission—creating another tool for his "plan"?

She tugged at the corner of her mouth. The cracked skin on her lips stung.

"Your suicide note," she said, her voice terribly hoarse, "was very detailed."

David's breathing stopped abruptly.

Panic flickered in his eyes, followed by the annoyance of having his secret exposed.

"You went through my things?"

The hospital room door opened again.

Lucy came in holding a bouquet of lilies, her face full of concern.

"Linda, are you feeling better?"

Seeing the tense atmosphere, her eyes immediately reddened. "It's all my fault..."

David stepped sideways to block Lucy, his voice urgent. "Lucy, please step out first."

Lucy didn't leave. Instead, she stepped forward, tears falling. "Linda, I'm sorry... David was just worried about me. The situation was urgent, and he didn't think it through... Don't blame him. Blame me if you must..."

Linda watched her performance, her voice calm. "Dr. Green, no one here is watching your act."

Lucy's sobs caught in her throat. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She looked at David.

"Linda!" David snapped. "Watch your attitude! Lucy is concerned about you! Your miscarriage was an accident. You need to rest and recover, not make wild accusations and take it out on others!"

"What accusations am I making?" Linda looked at him. "That your suicide note says all your assets go to Lucy? That you've been scheming against me from the start, using me as a stepping stone for her?"

"That was a contingency plan!" David's temples throbbed with veins. He stepped closer. "My job is precarious. Writing contingency plans is required! Lucy is a trustworthy friend. Entrusting my assets to her was the most appropriate thing to do! Can you stop being so narrow-minded and unreasonable?"

Lucy tugged at his sleeve, sobbing. "David, don't... Linda is in pain. It's normal for her to say things in anger..."

David took a deep breath. "You're emotionally unstable. You need rest."

He paused, forcing himself to soften his tone. "Drink the soup. I'll come back later. Get some rest."

With that, he put his arm around Lucy's shoulder and quickly left the room.

The door closed. The room fell completely silent. The sweet scent of lilies mixed with the smell of disinfectant, nauseating.

Linda sat rigid. Her heart stung, then went numb.

She leaned over and dry-heaved, bringing up only bile.

The wound on her abdomen pulled with the movement, causing sharp pain that made her curl up. Cold sweat soaked her clothes.

No phone. No one around.

Only the snow falling outside.

After a long time, the door quietly opened.

Ada Kent, the cafeteria auntie, came in carrying a food container. She was startled when she saw Linda's condition.

"Dr. Queen, how come no one is taking care of you?"

Ada quickly came over to wipe her sweat and tidy her up. "Captain Brown left with Dr. Green. I figured you'd be all alone... Oh, you poor thing. I brought some chicken soup. Eat it while it's still warm."

Ada opened the container. The chicken soup was still steaming.

Linda looked at the steam and said nothing.

The last bit of something in her heart had completely frozen over.

The day she was discharged, David came.

He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but he still wore a crisp uniform, his posture straight.

He took the small amount of luggage handed over by the nurse, his voice dry. "The paperwork is done. Let's go home."

Linda didn't look at him and didn't answer. She silently followed him out of the inpatient building.

The wind blew, carrying the chill of early winter. She pulled her coat tighter. It had been bought for her by David. Very warm.

Now, pressed against her skin, it only felt ice-cold.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy. David tried several times to speak, his lips moving, but in the end he only managed, "You... still look unwell. Rest well when we get home."

It was his usual tone—commanding yet concerned.

In the past, she had thought it was masculine, a sign that he cared too much to be articulate. Now, every word sounded like issuing a mission order.

She turned her head to look out the window at the withered branches rushing backward. She said nothing.

Back at their small home in the family compound, where they had lived for three years, everything was as before, clean and tidy.

This had once been the loving nest she had carefully decorated. Every corner held her personal touch.

Now, it felt like an elaborately constructed stage set—falsely suffocating.