After He Robbed My Cure, I Rose as Queen

Chapter 2

At 2 am, the familiar crushing pressure in my chest dragged me awake from a restless sleep.

My acute heart failure had struck again. I gasped desperately for air, but it felt like my lungs had forgotten how to breathe. I stumbled out of bed, unlocked the door, and dragged myself toward the living room, hoping to find my emergency medication.

The moment I stepped outside, I saw the lights were still on. My emergency kit, where I kept all my life-saving medicine, had been completely rummaged through. Bottles were scattered across the floor.

A slender figure wearing my silk pajamas walked out of the kitchen. It was Charlotte. She was holding my medicine bottle, turning it over under the light as if she were studying some strange object.

Charlotte held my emergency pills in her hand, her eyes slightly reddened.

"Rosalie, Jack wasn't feeling well. His heart was bothering him a little, and I thought your medicine might help. I was so worried that I looked through your things without asking. You're not angry with me, are you?"

My eyes locked onto the bottle in her hand. It was nitroglycerin, the medication that could save my life during a heart attack.

I used every bit of strength left in my body and lunged forward, snatching the bottle away.

It was empty.

"Where's the medicine?" My voice came out rough and broken from the lack of oxygen.

"Where did you put my medicine?" I reached out and grabbed her collar.

Charlotte let out a scream and immediately stumbled backward, falling toward the floor. The hot milk in her hand spilled all over the back of her own hand.

Her scream shattered the silence of the night. The guest room door flew open, and Alexander rushed out.

The scene he saw was Charlotte on the floor, her hand bright red from the burn, while I was gripping her clothes like I was the one attacking her.

"Rosalie, what are you doing now?"

He shouted and rushed over, shoving me hard by the shoulder.

I was already barely holding myself together. The moment he pushed me, I lost my balance and fell backward. The back of my head crashed into the sharp edge of the coffee table. My vision went dark as a sharp pain shot through my forehead.

Alexander immediately knelt beside Charlotte, his face filled with worry as he checked her burned hand.

"Charlotte, are you alright? Does it hurt? Let me see."

For someone with end-stage uremia, my blood had almost no ability to clot. The cut on my forehead wouldn't stop bleeding. Blood slid down my face, drop by drop.

Alexander looked back at me. His expression was cold, almost like I was a stranger.

He stood up and ordered, "Apologize to Charlotte. Now."

I forced myself to sit up, grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, and pressed it tightly against my bleeding forehead. The blood quickly soaked through the paper, and the sticky warmth made my stomach twist.

I lifted my head and met his freezing gaze, squeezing two words out through my teeth.