He Used Me As Cash Cow, I Made Him Broke

Chapter 2

I stared at my mother lying motionless on the floor, and an overwhelming wave of terror instantly swallowed me whole.

Gritting my teeth against the tearing pain in my abdomen, I forced myself to roll over and try to get out of bed to call for help, only to fall heavily onto the floor.

A warm sensation spread across the wound. Blood kept pouring out.

But I couldn't care less.

I propped myself up in my arms and crawled forward little by little toward the door.

Each movement tore through my body, but I kept going.

When I finally reached the door, I used every ounce of strength I had left to pound on it.

"Someone… help… doctor!"

My vision blurred the moment I saw the panicked faces of doctors and nurses rushing in.

And then everything went dark.

When I woke again, I was awakened by my daughter's loud, piercing cry.

I turned my head weakly and saw a nurse gently holding her, rocking her softly to calm her down.

Jack had once said our child's cry would be the most beautiful sound in the world.

Now that sound was right beside me, but the person who once said it was nowhere to be found.

Seeing my eyes open, the nurse quickly said, "You're finally awake. If you had been any later, your wound would've become infected." She carefully brought the baby to my side.

The moment the little one was placed near me, she suddenly stopped crying. Her dark, curious eyes stared straight at me.

My chest tightened.

My eyes burned.

"Where is my mother?" I asked hoarsely.

The nurse hesitated, her expression conflicted, as if she didn't know how to say it.

"Your mother… suffered a concussion from the impact. She's still in the ICU being rescued."

My breath caught.

All because of me.

All because of Jack.

If he hadn't shoved her… if he hadn't treated everything like it meant nothing… none of this would have happened.

At that moment, the hospital door was pushed open.

Jack and Chloe walked in together.

The moment his eyes landed on me, there was no relief, only impatience, as if my survival itself was an inconvenience.

"You're awake. Good. Saves me trouble."

He walked forward and casually tossed a document onto my bedside table.

"This is your mother's critical condition notice. The doctor needs a family member to sign it," his tone was flat, almost bored.

Behind him, Chloe stood neatly dressed, casually fiddling with the luxury handbag Jack had just bought her, her earlier tears completely gone. She didn't even bother pretending anymore.

I stared at Jack, my voice trembling with rage. "If anything happens to my mother, I will never forgive you."

Jack let out a cold laugh. "What does that have to do with me? She just has a weak body and poor psychological tolerance."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Fine. I'll apologize if that makes you feel better. I didn't know she'd end up with a concussion."

That light, careless apology felt like a slap.

Was that supposed to erase everything?

Erase my mother lying in the ICU?

Erase everything he had done?

The baby suddenly cried again. This time louder, more urgent, almost frantic.

The nurse leaned closer and said softly, "The baby is hungry. It's time to feed her."

But I had nothing left in me.

No strength.

No peace.

And no milk.

The shock, grief, and physical collapse had drained me completely.

I looked at Jack, my voice weak but firm. "Go get formula."

He didn't move.

Instead, Chloe let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"Oh wow, Emily," she said sweetly, tilting her head. "You can't even feed your own child? I really wonder how you became a mother."

Her words landed like needles, sharp and humiliating.

The room felt colder.

The baby's cries grew louder.

And my hands, trembling and empty, could do nothing but clutch the edge of the bed as everything around me began to fall apart again.