Chapter 637
An hour later.
Jackson took Daisy to the hospital himself. The room was pretty swanky, like a one-bedroom suite with a TV and a bathroom.
But Daisy saw the iron bars on the door, the sealed windows, and the bed with chains, and she just lost it. Her legs turned to jelly, and she started freaking out.
The more scared she got, the louder she screamed, like she was a real mental case.
Soon enough, the medical staff had her pinned down, strapped to the bed, and pumped full of sedatives.
Lying there, Daisy had no fight left in her. She turned her head and saw Jackson standing outside the door.
His eyes were ice-cold, and Daisy felt like she was sinking into a bottomless pit.
Before she hit rock bottom, Jackson turned and walked away.
When Jackson got back to the Frane House, Lillian was still out cold.
She was in bad shape. That night, she almost bled out, and the car crash messed her up even more.
Terry had called in a shrink, and Jackson took the doc into the study, answering some of his questions.
"Mr. Frane, from what you've told me, it sounds like Mrs. Frane has postpartum depression."
Even though Jackson was ready for it, hearing the doc's diagnosis still hit him like a ton of bricks.
"You mentioned Mrs. Frane had mild depression four years ago. Women often have mood swings after childbirth due to hormonal changes. Given what she's been through, it's no shock she ended up with postpartum depression."
Sitting behind the desk, Jackson looked like a storm cloud, the room heavy with tension.
The doc started to hesitate, not sure if he should keep talking.
After a long pause, Jackson finally croaked out, "How do we treat it? Is it easy to cure? Will there be any lasting aftereffects?"
He fired off three questions in a row, showing just how worried he was.
The doc quickly answered, "We'll use meds, but that's not enough. This is mostly a mental thing. Mrs. Frane needs to chill, be treated gently, and not deal with any more stress. Help her forget the bad stuff fast, hang out with good friends, talk about her feelings, and help her find new goals and beliefs."
Jackson listened closely and chatted with the doc for a while before letting Terry show him out.
He stayed alone in the study for hours until it got dark.
Lyra pushed open the door, and Jackson didn't move, just sitting there in the dark, like a silent, heavy mountain.
The room was pitch black, and he blended into the night, lonelier and sadder than the darkness itself.
Lyra sighed and tried to comfort him, "Jackson, don't beat yourself up."
Lyra felt bad for Jackson. The scolding she had planned just wouldn't come out.
Jackson snapped out of it, like he just noticed Lyra was there.
He stood up, turned on a lamp, and walked over to support Lyra, asking, "Grandma, is she awake?"
"Why don't you go check yourself?" Lyra asked.
Even though Lillian was just in the bedroom, Jackson hadn't gone to see her since he got back.
Jackson's lips pressed together. "She doesn't want to see me."
"Now you get it. Do you realize your mistake?" Lyra sighed again.
Jackson stayed quiet, but he knew Lyra was talking about him dragging Lillian out of the hospital for supervision.
He gave a bitter smile.
How could he not know he messed up?
Lillian, with her frail body, still determined to escape.
Despite her gentle and kind nature, always avoiding conflicts, she ended up doing something as extreme as driving into someone, ready to die together.
He knew he was wrong again.
"You pushed her to the edge, Jackson. When Lillian wakes up, let her go. Don't force her anymore," Lyra said, holding Jackson's hand with a sigh.
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