The more Emma spoke, the angrier she became, her eyes turning red. She truly wished she could go and strangle that old hag right now to avenge her unborn child.
Seeing his wife’s eyes red-rimmed and filled with tears, Frank’s heart ached.
To Frank, Mrs. Thompson Sr. was the mother who had carried him for nine months and raised him through hardship. Now that she was dying, he could only remember the good times, the days when they had only each other to rely on.
But what Mrs. Thompson Sr. had done over the years had indeed caused Emma immense pain.
“Alright, alright, I was wrong. I won’t bring up her again. Don’t be angry,” Frank said, moving toward Emma and trying to pull her into his arms, but she forcefully pushed him away.
“Don’t touch me!” Emma glared at him. “I’ve already booked a flight abroad for tomorrow morning. I’ll come back when she’s dead.”
With that, Emma left Frank standing there and hurried upstairs.
Frank sat alone on the living room sofa, where he remained for the entire night.
The next morning, the housekeeper was startled to find him there.
“Sir, why are you sitting here? Are you not feeling well? Should I call for Madam?” the housekeeper asked timidly.
“No need,” Frank shook his head. “What time is it?”
“It’s six o’clock. I was just about to start making breakfast,” the housekeeper replied.
“Prepare some nourishing supplements for her. Make sure to take good care of her,” Frank said before standing up and heading upstairs.

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