Chapter 107 You Are Not Worthy
Before Harper could react, Francis sneered, "Forget it, you don't need to choose. You are dirty."
Harper didn't understand his meaning at first.
Francis stood in front of her, his long legs encased in trousers. He straddled. He then leaned down. He gripped her chin and forced her to open her mouth.
With just one glance, Harper understood what he wanted to do. She paled. She couldn't break free, so she tightly shut her eyes, her voice trembling. "You're insane... Get away!"
Francis adjusted her face, finding the right angle, and said, "You have no say in this."
Harper's eyes widened, her face flushing with anger.
"If you dare, I'll make sure you lose it!"
With a cold look, Francis exuded a strong sense of oppression. He smirked, his smile filled with wickedness. "If you don't want this child, you can do that." With one simple sentence, he rendered Harper speechless. Harper wouldn't risk her child’s life.
She choked, "Would you do this to Chloe?"
Anger and ruthlessness ran over Francis’ face. "I'm keeping you around because you can do a good job in sex. You should keep it in mind."
When a man is provoked, he can say anything, no matter how demeaning it might be. He coldly retorted, "Don't compare yourself to anyone. You're not worthy."
Harper screamed, her face flushed with an unusual redness.
Seeing Harper in pain, Francis sneered, "Haven't you served others like this before? Well, it's perfect. After being deceived by you for so long, it's time for me to enjoy something new."
Harper's mind was in a whirl, and she was unable to think or resist. She responded mechanically. Francis, too, felt a rush of excitement and nervousness. He tightly pinched Harper's tender cheeks, not caring if it hurt her.
Harper's face was covered with tears. All the sweet memories were shattered by the words "You're not worthy." She was just a tool for his pleasure. Intense pain engulfed her, making it impossible for her to distinguish where it came from. Harper's fair face turned abnormally red. She was in so much pain that she couldn't make a sound. She was fragile. Gradually, her vision grew vague, and the whole world turned into a glaring white. Only the man in front of her was still clear to see. He wore a clean white shirt with a cold smile on his lips. He was doing something that she found so humiliating.
Finally, Francis noticed something was wrong with Harper. He stepped back, held her face, and asked in a cold voice, "What's the matter?"
Harper wanted to vomit but was unable to speak. She felt pain all over as if she was about to die.
Francis's eyes suddenly narrowed, and he quickly grabbed a towel to dry her off. After helping Harper put on her clothes, he hurriedly carried her downstairs.
In the car, Francis ordered, "Go to the hospital."
Harper's whole body was curled up, her forehead covered in cold sweat, her facial features contorted with pain.
Francis supported her back, pressed her face against his chest, and asked softly, "What is wrong?"
Harper lacked strength, and her eyes were tightly closed. Francis looked at her and ordered, "Hurry up."
The car stopped at the underground parking lot, and Francis carried Harper directly to the gynecology clinic, where a doctor was already waiting.
During the wait, Wesley came over. Seeing Francis's condition, he asked, "Did you take your medication?" Francis nodded and shook his head, asking, "Where's the medicine?"
"This is medicine, not food. I gave you a lot last time. It should not be run out in such a short time."
Francis frowned and didn't answer. Wesley took out a small bottle with a very small amount.
"This is this week's medicine. I won't give you anymore in advance." After Francis took it, he put a few pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the mineral water Victor handed him.
Wesley was speechless as he saw him staring at the ward. He advised, "When you have an episode, you should keep a distance from Harper. Can she withstand your agitation? If you have time, you should consider targeted therapy to avoid uncontrollable accidents." Wesley's words were obscure. After all, bipolar disorder could be serious or minor, and even if Francis had self-control, accidents could happen. It usually happened when Francis encountered something he cared about the most, and Francis’ self-control would instantly give way to the disease.
Francis listened this time. His lips pressed together. "Got it."
Wesley asked again, "The news online said that you're celebrating Chloe's birthday and that a piece of good news is coming. What is it?"
Francis raised an eyebrow and replied indifferently, "It's nonsense."
"So you're just going to let it go? Aren't you afraid of upsetting Harper?"
Francis's expression was cold and stern. He thought, ‘She knows how to break my heart.’
The test results came out quickly. Harper suffered from low progesterone, low blood sugar, and slight vaginal bleeding. There were signs of threatened miscarriage. Harper needed to stay in the hospital.
Wesley was startled. "Harper is pregnant. Why didn't you tell us?"
Francis's face showed little joy, and he turned and went to the ward. Harper was having a drip. Her pain was relieved, and she was much calmer. She was asleep.
Francis lay directly on the adjacent bed to rest. The night passed quietly. When Harper woke up, she saw Francis sleeping on the bed next to her.
Francis lay there with his clothes on, his stiff trousers outlining his long and straight legs.
Harper couldn't help but think of what happened last night. Her face turned pale. She held onto the bed rail and tried to get out of bed, wanting to go to the restroom, but she overestimated her strength. Her legs went weak, almost causing her to fall.
A strong hand reached through her armpit and lifted her. After steadying herself, Harper took a step back and grabbed the bed frame. She resisted Francis's help.
Francis's eyes darkened. "Can you make it on your own?"
Harper thought Francis was disgusting and avoided looking at him.
"I don't need your help."
Her voice was hoarse, and her words sounded particularly harsh. Francis crossed his arms and stood there, watching her make her way to the restroom.
Once inside, Harper closed the door, turned on the tap, and washed up before coming out.
As soon as she opened the door, she saw Francis standing outside, his suit fitting him perfectly, which startled her, causing her to step back.
Luckily, Francis reached out in time and pulled her into his arms.
"Don't touch me!" Harper became agitated, feeling a tearing pain in her throat. She was sure her mouth was injured. The hatred and disgust toward Francis grew stronger. She tried to push Francis away, but Francis ignored her and carried her to the bed, holding down her arms, and said coldly, "You have to be calm."
Harper suddenly laughed. She sneered, "Then please, can you stop pretending to be kind? It's disgusting to watch you act."
Francis's handsome eyebrows furrowed. He said in a deep voice, "Don't be ungrateful."
Harper endured the pain in her throat and said hoarsely, "Yes, I'm ungrateful. Since I bother you so much, can you leave?"
The atmosphere was thick with tension. The door to the ward was pushed open, and Victor came in with breakfast. Victor sensed the tension in the ward, and he stiffly put the food down, saying, "You’d better eat it while it's hot." Then he hurried out.
Francis didn't leave. He patiently opened the meal box, set up the small table, and put food on it. "Have some."
Harper remained indifferent as if she hadn't heard it. She turned her face away from him. Francis directly scooped up some soup with a spoon and fed it to her, commanding, "Eat."
But Harper still kept her mouth shut, even closing her eyes.
Francis's eyes turned cold, and he sneered, "Do I have to feed you differently?"
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