Some distance from the hospital, in a derelict warehouse on the outskirts, Matthew offered a sardonic smile towards the bound figure on the chair, defiant despite resembling a fish laid out for slaughter: "You wanted to see the police, didn't you? Well, you'll get your wish soon enough. But it's to aid the investigation into illicit drug trading, and... intentional assault."
"Intentional assault?" The voice of the tied individual shot up: "I haven't intentionally harmed anyone! This is a frame-up!"
"Flora is pregnant. The usage of unidentified drugs can harm both the fetus and the mother's health." Matthew languidly pulled out a knife, sliding a gentle finger down the blade as he posed a chilling question: "Tell me, how many slashes should this knife carve on your face to be considered fair?"
Only then did the fear truly take hold of the captive.
She paled, shaking her head in frenzied denial: "No... no... I've done nothing... You've got the wrong person... it's not me..."
"Who's the puppet master behind you?" Matthew's calm contrasted starkly with her chaotic fear.
Slowly advancing, he held the gleaming blade close to her cheek.
She trembled violently, her voice quivering in sync: "I'll talk... I'll talk... just... put down the knife first..." She had recognized she was dealing with a madman, ruthless and merciless.
In a place like this, there was no escaping his grip.
Survival was her top priority.
"Selena... It's Selena!" She gasped: "I signed a contract with a hourly maid company. That day... it was Selena who approached me, offering me a large sum of money. All I had to do was to call that girl at a specified time and give her a drink mixed with a certain drug." Her dire financial situation, coupled with a seriously ill sibling, had pushed her into taking the risk.
Matthew's lips twitched, but it couldn't be construed as a smile, for his eyes were still icy and devoid of emotion.
He repeated the newly learned name under his breath, stowed away his knife, and turned to leave the room.
"Hand her and all the obtained evidence over to the police. Let the law deal with it." The captive was just a pawn; the real adversary was Selena: "The Whites... it's time to draw the net in... Oh, hold on..." Suddenly recalling something, he turned to the figure who had maintained a half-step distance behind him: "How many months pregnant is she?"
"She" was, indeed, Flora.
His subordinate replied immediately, not needing a second thought: "Just over five months." This was during a time when Matthew was long gone, when the two of them were practically inseparable.
In other words, the innocent child just lost was almost certainly his own.
No, there was no "almost" about it.
Flora had never betrayed him. How could her child bear the bloodline of another man?
"I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I dare not ask for your forgiveness, but..."
Flora tilted her head, her eyes landing on the bouquet in Patrick's hand: "Patrick, do you know how much I love flowers? But I prefer growing flowers over arranging them."
Patrick fell silent.
He watched the woman lying on the hospital bed, intently listening to her words.
"These flowers are beautiful and vibrant, aren't they? But once we cut them from their stems and place them in a vase, they wither and rot within a few days, becoming trash people want to discard.
If we truly love flowers, we should tend to the plant with care, allowing it to bloom in its fullest splendor, rather than breaking off stems to place in a vase.
Let it bud, bloom, and wilt naturally."
Patrick understood her metaphor, and nodded in acknowledgement: "It was my lack of foresight." Love, like flowers in her analogy, cannot be forced or obtained by coercion. It should be allowed to grow naturally.
Perhaps their fate had truly ended a long time ago.
Persisting only exacerbated the situation.
Flora gifted him a faint smile: "Patrick, we are not meant for each other, but you're a good man. You will definitely find your own happiness."
Flora's mother had a deep affection for roses.
Half of her life was dedicated to the garden, until her daughter's relationship with the Jones' son fell apart and their beloved garden was taken away.
Thereafter, she ceased any commercial gardening endeavors.
As she aged, she grew a few small flowers for her own enjoyment, to beautify the yard.
Each morning, she would water the flowers, trim the stems, then brew a pot of tea and settle down with a book.
Days rolled by in a gentle, tranquil rhythm.
Her only regret was that she hadn't seen her daughter and grandchildren in a long time. She wondered how they were doing.
Yet today, she found herself unable to focus on her book, her gaze straying intermittently towards the head of the alleyway. She was waiting for her daughter to return from the hospital. Half the morning had already slipped away.
Eventually, a vehicle crawled to a stop at the entrance of the lane. From the car, Emma dashed out first, one hand grasping their luggage, the other supporting the passenger within.
"Miss, take it slow, be careful of reopening your wounds." The young girl fretted over the chance that her mistress's wound might break open again. There was no doctor in this place; should they lose blood or encounter other complications, there was no one to administer treatment.
Flora's health had significantly improved. She was able to walk independently, albeit only taking tiny steps, but no longer was she confined to her bed as before.
"Mother..."
Her brown eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of her mother's familiar figure emerging from the house. Since her mother moved here, they had rarely seen each other.
Unconsciously, Mrs. Smith quickened her pace. She rushed to her daughter, intending to embrace her but fearing to touch her wounds, so she settled for caressing her hair. Her voice was a tender scold: "This child... In love, people usually find happiness and peace by each other's side.
Why, when it comes to you, you nearly lost your life? For Matthew, it's not worth it, in your mother's eyes!" She still held reservations about Matthew, feeling he was unreliable and not suitable for her daughter.
"Mother..." Flora blinked, her head bowed. She didn't want to see the complex emotions in her mother's eyes.
All she said was: "I'm sorry, I've made you worry."
"Worry doesn't even begin to cover it..." her mother sighed, taking over Emma's duty of guiding her daughter into the house.
In the end, she was still her child; anger came and went, but love remained. With her health in this state, they couldn't stand around at the door talking.
Once her daughter was comfortably seated on the sofa, she finally asked seriously: "What exactly happened?" She poured a warm cup of water for her daughter and muttered: "Have a drink first, then tell me everything slowly."
Choosing her words carefully, Flora recounted the series of events in a few sentences, including how Patrick was manipulated by Selena.
On hearing this, her mother could not hide her disappointment and sadness.
"I never thought Patrick could do something like this. He's not a bad person, just... momentarily foolish, but it has resulted in severe consequences."
Flora nodded: "I understand what kind of person he is, so I never blamed him from the start. We are simply not meant to be; all I wish is for him to be happy."
Her mother also nodded. She could see that her daughter had grown up. This woman, who had weathered storms, was no longer the little girl clinging to her mother for affection.
"What are you planning to do now?"
"I plan..." Flora paused, an idea suddenly lighting up in her mind. She glanced around the house hastily, gripped her mother's hand and asked: "Mother, this house isn't just a simple house, is it?" She spotted some familiar surveillance equipment, signal jammers, and security devices, similar to those she had seen in Matthew's mansion.
A middle-aged woman wouldn't necessarily live in such a house. Her father must have been a significant figure in the underworld. No, definitely, not just because of this house, but all the signs pointed to this fact.
She didn't inquire about his position in the underworld, only about his feelings towards her and her mother: "What kind of person is he, mother? Does he love you and me? He obviously knows of my existence, even sends people to protect me, so why won't he show himself? Is he hiding some secret pain or does he simply not care about a daughter like me?"
Her father, it was a knot in her heart. As a child, she asked her mother countless times about her father, but the only response she received was silence. It wasn't until she grew older that she stopped asking, but she still couldn't stop thinking about the father she had never met.
Lately, it seemed as if he had appeared very close to her, sending people to protect her, bringing her mother to this place. But he still refused to meet her, which made her very confused. She didn't understand whether her father loved or despised her and her mother.
Her mother gently wiped the tear from the corner of her daughter's eye: "Your father loves you very much. Lately, he has been trying to leave the underworld, sorting out his affairs. But there's one very important, and very dangerous thing, he hasn't finished yet." She sighed again: "A very important, and very dangerous thing. That's why your grandmother lost her life."
After a pause, she continued: "He's been entangled in the underworld for many years, made many friends, but even more enemies. He feared that acknowledging you would drag you into danger, so he could only wait until everything was resolved, until he could retreat safely... I'm sure he's very worried about you, and he's trying to see you."
Trying to see her... Flora was taken aback, her eyes widened suddenly: "The gardener from last time?"
Her mother gave a gentle nod.
With a sigh of relief, Flora responded: "That's a relief, I will seek him out. There are some matters I want to clarify."
"Several matters? Are these about Matthew and that map?" Her mother seemed already privy to all the details, perhaps even understanding more of the situation than she did: "Do not meddle in this, it's deep waters. That map could cost Matthew his life at the hands of Ethelbert. When that time comes, I will help you care for the children, do not worry overly much."
Her tone was almost an affirmation of Matthew's impending defeat in this battle.
Flora shook her head: "No... he will not..."
"He can't defeat Ethelbert, if the man has... that." Her mother said: "Their feud is their own, we won't interfere. Even if Matthew's life is taken by Ethelbert, it would be his retribution. Ethelbert's father died at his hands..."
"But it was self-defense!" Flora had heard Matthew mention this, and she desperately turned to her mother: "Even if brought before the law, he committed no crime. Moreover... Ethelbert has been exploiting the close relationship between us and him, even planning to kill him. Mom, dad was nearly killed by him, and you were once held captive by him. How can you side with him?" She couldn't believe her mother had forgotten all this.
Ethelbert was a villain. Her mother couldn't stand with him, impassively watching as he hurt her father and the man she loved...
"Andrey?"
"It's me." Andrey was out of the country, thousands of miles away from Matthew: "I'm hiding out here to make a call to you..."
"How is Paul doing?" Matthew's first reflex was to worry about his daughter.
Andrey answered quickly: "Her physical health isn't deteriorating, but her mental state is somewhat concerning. She's showing clear signs of anxiety and panic. My suggestion is... you should be honest with Flora, so she can be there for Paul." Perhaps this would improve her treatment's effectiveness a little.