Chapter 152 It Turns Out She Had a Major Hemorrhage
Grace's eyes were full of sorrow and despair.
She'd been through hell, losing loved ones. How could she not hate?
How could she still share a bed with Henry? If she stayed with him or clung to this wealth, how could she face Nathan, Oliver, or even herself?
Under the chandelier, Henry quietly watched her.
After a bit, he said softly, "We'll talk later. I'll feed the baby first."
He prepared the formula like a pro, showing no hesitation.
Henry was really looking forward to this child. The Montague Group had courses on maternal and child care; he attended them even when their relationship was at its worst.
Yet he still looked forward to the child!
Henry gently shook the milk and picked up Taylor. Smelling it, Taylor eagerly began to drink.
Grace stood under the light, dressed in thin clothes.
She watched Henry holding Taylor. This scene had once been her teenage dream, but now it felt empty.
After Taylor was full, she wet her diaper.
Taylor lay in the crib, letting Henry change her into a floral diaper. Her tiny legs slowly straightened as she drifted to sleep.
Taylor's face was serene, her cheeks chubby.
Henry couldn't help but kiss her. His heart was overflowing with love, willing to do anything for Taylor.
There was a knock at the door, and a servant softly said, "Mr. Montague, the lactation consultant is here! Can she come in now?"
Henry walked over to open the door.
The lactation consultant was from the Montague Group's hospital, around 40 and very experienced. She seemed a bit reserved seeing Henry. "Mr. Montague, where is Mrs. Montague?"
Henry stepped back. "In the bedroom. Be gentle; Grace is a bit afraid of pain."
The consultant nodded. "I understand, Mr. Montague." She walked lightly, perhaps afraid of waking the baby.
Henry didn't go in.
He closed the bedroom door and stood by the window, lighting a cigarette. Thin smoke rose and was torn apart by the night wind.
The night was exceptionally quiet.
Henry heard faint, muffled groans from the bedroom, likely from the pain. Those sounds reminded him of their passionate nights, especially their first time. Her blonde hair spread across the pillow, her small face tender, and though it hurt, she didn't dare cry out.
In retrospect, there were very few times in their marriage when their intimate moments were truly consensual.
He often found it pleasurable, always insatiable, while she, unable to bear it, cried and begged him to be gentle, to let her go.
After the Windsor family's bankruptcy, Grace was even more exhausted dealing with Henry.
Henry became more domineering, always demanding her response during their intimate moments. He liked her clinging to his neck, pitifully calling his name. He enjoyed that sense of control.
Henry's fingers holding the cigarette trembled slightly.
The night grew deeper.
After some time, the bedroom door opened. Henry turned and extinguished the cigarette, his voice hoarse. "How is she?"
The consultant approached, her voice low. "The milk has been stimulated, but Mrs. Montague is too thin. She just experienced severe bleeding and really needs to recuperate. She looks extremely anemic!"
Henry was stunned. "Severe bleeding?"
The consultant didn't think much of it and said directly, "Didn't the obstetrician tell you? Mrs. Montague had severe bleeding during childbirth. When she was brought to the hospital, her lower body was covered in blood. Even after transfusing 4 pints, it wasn't enough!"
The consultant, feeling for her, said, "Mrs. Montague's life was hanging by a thread! With everything else going on, she can't take any more stress, or she might develop postpartum depression."
Henry swallowed hard. After a moment, he composed himself and saw the consultant out.
When he returned, Grace was already dressed, looking ready to leave.
Henry watched her under the light. "You're leaving?"
Grace didn't deny it. "I have things to do. I'll come back to see her in a few days. Once everything is settled, I'll take her away."
The light cast a white web.
Henry's eyes were red, his voice hoarse. "Your husband is here, your child is here, where are you going? Grace, where are you going?"
'Husband! Child!' she thought it was ridiculous.
Grace didn't want to argue; she didn't have the strength. She just looked at him with that desolate gaze and softly retorted, "Henry, do you still think you're my husband? Isn't it laughable? Have you forgotten you slapped me for Elodie? Disregarded my pleas and left for Elodie? Henry, can you smell the blood in this house? That night, there was blood everywhere, from under me to the stairs. Where were you then? Grieving for Elodie, feeling sorry for her. You probably never thought of me, risking my life to give birth to Taylor!"
Henry's face turned pale.
Grace's lips trembled. "Henry, you always said you liked daughters, wanted to be a father, but where were you when she was born? Where were you when she might not have made it?"
Grace finished speaking and still wanted to leave.
But Henry grabbed her by the waist, pressing her down at the foot of the bed. All of this was done quietly; no matter how intense their struggle, they restrained themselves from waking Taylor.
Grace was pinned beneath him, unable to move.
Henry began to remove her coat, then her inner clothes. When he got down to her underwear, he was completely stunned.
Grace was wearing a thick sanitary pad.
But at this moment, the pad was soaked with blood, the bright red blood seeping through her underwear, staining her thighs messily.
Henry knew that women had postpartum bleeding, but this much blood was definitely not normal.
His trembling hand reached out to touch her body, inch by inch.
Grace slapped him.
She had no strength, but driven by anger, the crisp sound was deafening in the dark night, turning Henry's face to the side.
He slowly turned back, meeting her red eyes.
Henry softly said, "I'm sorry," then tightly embraced her, as if afraid she would suddenly disappear, afraid of losing her.
In the quiet night, only his breath by her neck and Taylor's light, sweet breathing could be heard.
Grace couldn't leave.
Henry stripped her clothes and dressed her in clean ones.
He knew she wanted to leave. He held her, burying his face in her neck, murmuring, "Stay in, or you're risking your life! I'll handle what you want to do. Grace, for Taylor's sake, let me make it up to you."
How could Grace agree? She struggled desperately, wanting to leave him, leave this house.
Henry gave Grace a sedative injection. The thin needle pierced her flesh, and Grace's eyes filled with tears, staring at him in disbelief.
Her body slowly softened, collapsing onto the soft bed, slightly convulsing.
Henry's heart ached. He leaned down to kiss her, murmuring, "Be good and sleep well! We'll talk about our matters when I get back!"
Grace quietly watched him, her eyes filled with despair and hatred.
Henry knew she hated him.
But he also knew that if she continued to ruin her body, she would soon collapse, perhaps even lose her life!
Henry held Grace's frail body, painfully murmuring, "Grace, are you punishing yourself, or are you punishing me?"
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