Chapter 486 Disappointment Once More
The first night back at the Blanchet home, Lawrence's concern for Ishara was especially evident. She had thought he simply cared a lot for Ishara.
To make Ishara happy, he stopped Winnie from claiming her share of the Blanchet family fortune.
He even forfeited an important competition by helping Ishara with the necessary offence when he accompanied her to the hospital to treat a burn on her ankle, letting her, Winnie lose the game.
But what if it wasn’t about caring after all?
Why was Ishara’s health so crucial to him?
Could it be related to Madam Rodriguez’s collapse in Lymington?!
Questions filled Winnie's mind.
“Once he comes to, you might want to ask him for details.”
“I know you're hurt by him, unwilling to forgive or trust him again.”
“But I feel Mr. Lawrence is burdened with something he's been carrying all alone and for some reason, he refuses to let us share the weight.”
“Winnie, I’m begging you, out of pity for him, and the state he's in because of you, you must break through this icy patch between you two,” Jeremy implored with a heavy sigh.
Winnie was heart-wrenched but remained silent.
Approaching four o'clock, his hospital room was opened to visitors – two people allowed.
Sidney arrived.
Jeremy suggested that Winnie take their son in to see him.
Upon seeing his daddy lying in the bed, Sidney's tears fell immediately, "I heard from Jeremy, he got hurt while saving you.”
The little boy gazed at her, his words deeper than his years, and Winnie paused mid-pour, a laugh escaping her lips.
"What reason do you think there is?" she asked, intrigued.
"It's because he has you in his heart; that's why he'd throw caution to the wind," Sidney said, his spirits dampened.
Winnie squeezed the towel, unbuttoning Lawrence's surgical scrubs, trying her best to wipe away the bloodstains from his body.
There was a drainage tube inserted into his chest, the wound deep and ghastly, and just above his chest, near the shoulder blade, was an old scar.
That scar made Winnie's eyes gloss over. Three years ago, he had earned it for her—a permanent badge of honor he'd carry with him for a lifetime.
But tonight? She had no idea what he was thinking...
"Daddy, if he has you in his heart, why did he get involved with Ishara? I really don't understand!" Sidney vented, frustration in his voice.
That was something Winnie desperately wanted to figure out, too.
First, she needed to wait for him to wake up. Once he did, she had to ask if there was something going on with Mrs. Rodriguez.
The next day.
Winnie had stayed awake all night, stepping away only briefly for an IV drip.
Melanie arrived as promised, bringing fresh clothes and toiletries for Winnie.
Introducing Sidney to Melanie, Winnie asked her to look after her son for a while.
Around noon, a nurse rushed in, "Who is Mr. Lawrence R's next of kin? There are signs he's waking up!"
Winnie's hand trembled as she grabbed the IV bottle and ran.
The nurse swung open the hospital room door, ushering Winnie in, "You stay with him; he's sweating profusely, and the painkiller's wearing off. Help give him a cool wipe I'll go call the attending doctor."
"Okay!" Winnie agreed, moving with a limping gait due to her injured ankle. She managed to reach the bedside and hung the IV properly.
Leaning over Lawrence, she held her breath.
With tender hands, she carefully dabbed the sweaty neck with a towel.
"Ah..." he groaned weakly.
"Lawrence?" she exclaimed with hope, pausing with the towel, "Lawrence, you're awake! Are you in pain?"
"I'll stop then. Are you thirsty? You need to open your eyes first."
She turned to grab the water cup from the nightstand.
Suddenly, her hand was enveloped by his. Weak as he was, the grip was still formidable compared to hers.
He clenched her hand tightly.
Winnie looked down, her eyes dancing with emotion.
"Lawrence..."
“Ishara!” He murmured with his eyes shut tight and brows furrowed.
Winnie suddenly found herself voiceless, her throat constricted, filled with an icy bitterness.
“Ishara, is that you...?”
He was still fixated on her, those attractive, thin lips whispering Ishara's name.
How deeply must he care for her to awaken from major surgery with Ishara's name as the first word on his lips?
It just confirmed that in the face of death, it was her he thought of.
And suddenly, she found it all quite absurd.
The needle in the back of his hand had slipped from the vein due to his firm grip, causing blood to flow back, yet she was numb to the pain.
All she could think about was the complete rejection after Jeremy's heartfelt advice the night before.
Her soaring heart once again plunged into silence.
Through clenched teeth, she managed to speak, "Lawrence R, take a good look at who I am."
Lawrence R strained to open his eyes. When he saw Winnie, bewilderment flickered in his gaze – he hadn't expected her to be at his bedside.
But he didn't have time to contemplate; an urgent matter seized his nerves.
He lifted his head, his gaze frantic and disordered, searching, "Where is she? Isn't Ishara here?"
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it was me who's been here all night. Not her. I have no idea where she is; she didn’t show up,” Winnie scoffed, her voice sharp as if pierced through.
Silence.
Ishara was still in Lymington.
Lawrence R recalled, before the darkness claimed him, the last phone call was from Luke.
Luke had said Ishara didn’t go through with the blood transfusion for their mother. After arriving in Lymington, she concocted an excuse to leave right under Luke and the bodyguard’s watchful eyes.
His mother, preparing for a transfusion with drugs she shouldn't have taken, was probably in worse shape now.
Sweat chilled his body, the anxiety crippling his ability to think.
“What time is it?” he asked, attempting to get out of bed.
Winnie, though furious, instinctively pressed him down with concern, “It’s noon—the next day. What are you thinking of doing, Lawrence R.?”
“I have to find Ishara.” Lawrence reached for strength, flinging off the covers.
"Have you lost your mind? You still have a tube in..." Winnie couldn't finish her sentence.
With one swift motion, he yanked out the drainage tube. The wild, impatient act brought tears to Winnie's eyes as she struggled to comprehend, "Is your Ishara really that important to you, Lawrence R.?”
“Yes, she's important... I have to find her.”
"She went to Lymington, for heaven's sake, she’s not dead!”
But his mother might be.
Lawrence's eyes were bloodshot with an intensity that was almost haunting.
"Why do you have to be so good to her?" Winnie implored, her gaze locked on him as he got up from his post-surgery bed, ignoring her own well-being.
Comparatively, what did last night's life-threatening actions for her even mean?
In the end, it was just her, foolishly touched, believing that his rescue equated to love...
She watched as he staggered toward the door, his tall frame lurching. She was frustrated, yet she dared not touch him and instead rushed forward, demanding the truth. "Tell me, is it about your mom? Is there a connection between Ishara and your mother's illness?"
Lawrence froze as if a pause button had been pressed.
He stood rigid, his back to her, his eyes briefly flashing with pain. But his words were chillingly cold, laced with a sneer, "Winnie, you're overthinking it. How could it possibly have anything to do with my mother? Stop fantasizing and making excuses for me. I just care about Ishara."
He nearly tumbled out the door, and Winnie clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles whitened, a cold shiver running through her brain and body.
It was like a slap in the face, a sting in her heart that left her motionless.
Watching him determinedly go after Ishara!
The doctor and Jeremy arrived late to see the disarray in the hospital room – Lawrence's absence, the drainage tubes, and monitors scattered by the bed – bewildered them.
Jeremy turned to Winnie, seeing her reddened eyes. He asked anxiously, "Winnie, where's Mr. Lawrence?!"
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