Chapter 4 Wounds Infection
575 Words
The scene unfolded in slow motion, like a tragic film reel. And Clara? She was just a background extra in their so-called love story.
Clara lay in a pool of blood as chaos erupted around her, screams piercing the hospital air. She was grateful they were in a hospital—thank God it was one funded by the Sharp family.
When she woke, her eyes fluttering open, Matthew was sitting by her bedside.
When he saw she was conscious, he pulled a box from his bag, its contents still warm from home.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sharp are traveling. I don't think we should bother them with this. I've got a lawyer handling the case, and the attacker has been detained."
Clara let out a shaky breath of relief, but the image of the assailant's snarling face made her body tremble uncontrollably.
Yet Matthew never explained, or even mentioned, why he had hidden Ivy away and abandoned her that day.
Watching him unpack the food, she couldn't hold it in any longer. The memory of that foul sludge splashed across her skin rushed back, hot and disgusting. She shoved him away, vomiting violently, her stomach aching sharply in agony.
"What's wrong? I had your favorite soup made."
He patted her back, his touch gentle and familiar.
She shook her head, gritting her teeth through the agony, her voice raw and broken. "Take it away. I can't look at it!"
Her reaction stunned him. "Fine. I'll ask the cook to make something else."
With that, he left with the thermos, closing the door softly behind him.
Clara closed her eyes, fighting back waves of nausea, and rang for a nurse to rebandage her wound.
The nurse seemed familiar… but her clumsy handling of the bandages sent sharp pain shooting through Clara, her vision blurring in and out.
Only after the door closed did she hear the nurse's cold, cruel, mocking laugh. "Hah! Clara, you fool! You fell for it completely! I pressed your wound on purpose, and you bit straight through your own lip rather than scream or curse at me!"
Clara recognized Ivy's voice talking to another nurse. 'So the nurse was one of Ivy's accomplices?'
"She deserves it for trying to take Matthew from you. But… Ivy, how could you dare put chili water on her open wound? What if she finds out and comes after you for revenge?"
Ivy, dressed in a nurse's uniform, let out a smug hum, her face triumphant. "Matthew's got my back. He even drafted a fake forgiveness letter to cover up the people I hired to throw sludge at Clara and stab her—all written off as a 'prank.' What's there to worry about? Matthew will cover everything up."
Clara's wound burned with pain, so intense that black spots blurred her vision, cold sweat soaking through her hospital gown.
She gritted her teeth, biting hard into the inside of her cheek, then grabbed her phone and dialed her best friend Gina Keller's number. In a faint whisper, she managed just two words, "Help… call the police."
After speaking, Clara clutched her stomach on the hospital bed. By now, her wound was bleeding uncontrollably, soaking the fabric red.
The stab wound, though seemingly minor, wouldn't clot—it was infected, inflamed, burning through her flesh.
To Clara, time stretched on endlessly; every second was torture. Only when the hospital door burst open did she finally let darkness take her.
- Writer
