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Marina's body was working fine bar one—she couldn't control her legs. "What did you do to me?"
"Try walking backward."
They could move when she was retreating, but they stopped whenever she was heading for the gates.
"I've set your mobility strictly within the Carlton residence. Ms. Fordham is a genius indeed. She
resolved a big problem of mine."
Although Marina had known that Olivia would never let her go that easily, she hadn't expected Olivia to
take it this far.
Olivia gave Marina freedom yet caged her in the house at the same time.
It was late at night by the time Olivia arrived at the Heath residence.
She was tired from performing such a surgery—which needed a few hands—all alone.
Not only did it take a toll on her body, but also on her mentality.
In fact, attaching a prosthetic leg wasn't her forte, so it was more tiring than usual surgeries.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtShe fell into a deep sleep as soon as she flopped in bed.
Since there were people taking care of Molly, there shouldn't be any issue.
On that snowy night, a lifeless Krystal sat by her bed, looking as haggard as a ghost.
After she murdered Lisa, Krystal was confined in her room, and the Heaths never visited her.
As though cast to oblivion, no one cared about her anymore.
Although the ingredients for her meals were fresh, they were simple, like noodles and bread.
It was bearable, but it couldn't be compared to her previous lavish life.
Dinner was served. The food had gone cold.
The dim light reflected in the soup, and the night was solemn. In the past, her family would've been
worried about her for staying up at this hour.
Tatiana would share her articles about young girls dying early due to lack of sleep.
Linus would blabber on and on, advising her not to burn the midnight oil, as well as checking if
something was troubling her.
Krystal was no longer family to them; they perceived her as an enemy. If she wasn't pregnant, the
Heaths might've started their vengeful act on her.
Yale was once the reason for her happiness but became the cause of her undoing.
Unlike before, throwing a tantrum wouldn't draw other's attention to help her clean her mess anymore.
She crouched and dug in her cold meal.
The baby had to live; only then would her sentence be alleviated. She'd rather die than go to prison.
Halfway through her meal, her tears trickled down her cheeks before seeping into her food.
As someone who once lived lavishly, Krystal had never suffered this much, let alone eating cold food.
Furious, Krystal threw the plate onto the floor. The sight of the scattering rice pulled her senses back.
She could handle the hunger, but not her baby.
What if a miscarriage happened?
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Kneeling, she shoved the rice into her mouth as she muttered, "Sorry, baby. I won't get angry. You have
to live. You must live!"
Choking on her food, she fed herself some cold soup.
To live meant there was hope. Krystal was determined to retrieve everything that once belonged to her.
At midnight, someone knocked on the door. "Ms. Olivia."
Drowsily, Olivia put on her cardigan and opened the door.
It was the butler.
"What is it?"
"Something happened to Krystal. Please check on her upstairs as the doctor."
"Right away," she responded promptly.
It'd be troublesome if something happened to someone like Krystal.
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