Chapter 21: Stuart’s First Doubt

Annette didn't bother turning around—she recognized the voice. Greg again.

She had made things perfectly clear yesterday. Why on earth was he still lingering?

Greg, unwilling to let go, called out again, "Annette, can we just talk?"

Annette sighed inwardly. Were men all this stubborn? She was married now—what was there to talk about?

Not wanting to make a scene at the hospital gates, she walked over to him calmly. "I told you yesterday—there's nothing left to say."

Greg's fair face was tinged red, likely from drinking. His words were rushed, breath uneven. "You promised… You said that once your family was safe, you'd divorce Stuart. Your parents have moved out now—everything's settled. You can leave him."

Annette frowned. That… was news to her. As for why the original Annette had married Stuart, the memories in her mind were vague—this body held no real explanation.

Still, hearing that her so-called family had moved away brought a wave of relief. At least she wouldn't have to face those complete strangers.

Greg took her silence as hesitation. He anxiously reached out to grab her hand. "Annette, I waited for you. I stayed in the city for you."

But the moment his fingers brushed her skin, Annette's reflex kicked in—like a reflex to a slug crawling across her hand. She grabbed his arm and, with a twist of practiced precision, sent Greg tumbling to the ground.

Good thing the hospital gate was quiet this time of day.

Greg scrambled up, cradling his shoulder with a grimace. His eyes darkened with anger. "Annette, you ungrateful bitch. You'll regret this. Just wait—karma's coming for you."

Annette's lip curled. Threats, now? Pathetic.

"Be my guest," she said coolly. "But if I see you again, I'll drop you faster next time."

Without another word, she turned and walked inside.

Behind her, Greg shouted after her like a madman, "You'll come crawling back to me! You'll see!"

She didn't look back.

From the second-floor hospital window, Stuart had witnessed the entire scene.

He'd seen her strike, fast and clean—a perfect takedown. Her movements had been so swift, so precise, that even he, a soldier, was surprised.

Hand pressed to his bandaged abdomen, Stuart turned from the window, his face unreadable as he slowly paced the room.

When Annette entered and found him standing, she rushed over, concern etched across her features. "Are you insane? You just had surgery yesterday! Do you want your stitches torn open?"

She reached for his arm and helped him back to bed, the gesture firm but surprisingly gentle—familiar, even.

Stuart let her guide him without protest. "It's fine," he said simply. "Just a scratch."

Annette shot him a glare. "Sure. Not life-threatening yet, but far from harmless. You're not charging a battlefield—sit down and rest properly."

He didn't answer, but for once, he didn't argue. He lay back down, unusually compliant.

That evening, Annette reheated the duck soup and added two ounces of fresh noodles. For herself, she bought a coarse grain bun and some pickled vegetables, chewing through the tough mouthfuls with a quiet stubbornness.

When the soup was ready, she returned to the room, still not seeing Stuart's mother or sister. She couldn't help but wonder how Stuart had managed to shoo them away.

Stuart, watching her fish the noodles from the bowl, asked, "Did you eat?"

She smiled. "Of course. I'd never let myself go hungry."

He believed her. Annette was not the type to deny herself. He took the bowl and began eating quietly.

Annette leaned back in her chair, watching him eat. She couldn't help but think he looked more attractive this way—efficient, focused, but not crude.

When he'd finished, she asked, "How long are we staying back home? Something to deal with?"

"Dividing the household," Stuart said, plain and unbothered.

Her eyes widened. "Seriously?"

She hadn't expected that. With Grace's temperament, this was bound to be a spectacle.

Stuart noticed her surprise. "If you don't want to go, you don't have to."

Annette quickly waved it off. "No, it's fine. You're still healing—I should go with you."

Stuart gave a small nod and said no more.

The next morning, just after dawn, Grace and Nancy burst into the ward with bulging bags in hand.

Grace shouted as she entered, "Stuart, your sister and I will head home first. We'll tidy up your room before you and Annette arrive."

She'd made up her mind the night before. Since Stuart insisted on returning, she'd better go ahead and prepare—and deal with Nancy's "problem" before it got worse. If they couldn't get rid of the bastard child, they'd convince Stuart to raise it. Say it was Annette's.

It was a twisted plan, but one she thought was clever.

Stuart merely replied, "Travel safely."

Nancy, playing her role, pouted. "Stuart, we're going back already. Aren't you going to give us any money for the trip?"

He frowned. "I've got nothing on me. Didn't you bring anything at all?"

Nancy glanced at Annette, who stood by quietly, amused.

"Stuart, you never used to be like this," Nancy whined. "Since you married her, you haven't even given us a cent."

Annette raised a brow. Was the girl trying to pick a fight with both of them? Bold move.

She spoke up, smiling sweetly. "Well, your brother has a wife to take care of now—and soon, a child. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know."

Nancy snapped back, "What's there to be proud of? He's my brother—of course he cares about me!"

Annette's smile didn't falter. "And now, he's my husband. What I say goes."

She wasn't bluffing. Stuart had said he wanted to go back to split from the family—that meant he'd had enough of being leeched off. She wasn't afraid to push the point.

Nancy was speechless. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. She turned to her mother for help.

Grace scowled. "Stuart, how can you let a woman run the household? What kind of man are you, letting her trample all over you?"

Stuart's only reply was, "If you don't leave now, you'll miss the bus."

Annette's eyes sparkled. That was as good as public confirmation—he was on her side.

Even Stuart, usually so restrained, felt the mood in the room lift. With Annette smiling at him like that, the dull, sickroom air seemed to brighten with sunlight.