Chapter 440 Connor Has Always Been Alone
Nolan came out and stopped Ethan. "Jasmine is fine. You should take care of your wound first, or you'll scare her."
Ethan paused and looked down at the wound on his shoulder. There was a lot of blood, which was indeed quite frightening.
"Jasmine is asleep. Go treat your wound first," Edward said, frowning as he pulled Ethan towards the emergency room.
"Jasmine had congenital heart disease as a child. If she gets agitated, her chest hurts, and she needs medication. She said that since being with you, her episodes have been rare, so she left the medicine at home. That's why we came to the emergency room," Edward's tone softened towards Ethan.
Although Jasmine's hospitalization had scared him, it was clear that Ethan really cared for her.
Ethan felt a bit guilty. "It's my fault."
"What happened to your shoulder? And why didn't you answer your phone?" Edward asked, showing concern.
"A friend ran into some trouble, and I went to help him. Got a bit injured," Ethan said, holding his shoulder. As soon as he entered the emergency room, he saw Connor sitting on a bench.
The ambulance had arrived quickly; he was probably waiting for the test results.
Connor, tall and long-legged, sat despondently in the hospital corridor, looking somewhat lonely and desolate.
Perhaps, he had always been alone.
In Ethan's memory, Connor had been alone since he was five.
Although his mother was young, she died in childbirth along with Connor's sister.
That same year, Owen's illegitimate daughter, Deborah Morris, was born and brought back to the Hawthorne family.
In his childhood memories, Connor always thought Deborah was his sister. Even though his mother was gone, he felt he had to protect his sister.
Owen never explained to Connor that she wasn't his sister but his niece.
Deborah was an illegitimate daughter of the Hawthorne family, hidden from the public.
Thinking about this, Owen's words echoed in Connor's mind.
"Connor, you're still young. Now that your Mom is gone, only I can protect you in this family, understand?"
"Connor, I'm the one who loves you the most in this world. Dad is old and doesn't have the time or energy to take care of you. Only I can protect you and be with you."
"Connor, remember, I raised you. In the future, you can't fight me for things that don't belong to you."
"I am the rightful heir of the Hawthorne family. Connor, you won't fight with me in the future, right?"
Back then, Connor was still young. At five, he began living under Owen's dark and oppressive control.
Owen would find ways to punish Connor, making him understand who the master of the house was.
He wanted Connor to submit, to completely give up any thoughts of fighting for the family's wealth and inheritance, to become someone he could control.
"Connor, these Pierogies were specially made for you. Only you have them; Avery and Quentin don't. This is just for you, my most beloved."
Young Connor sat at the dining table, feeling everyone's hostility.
At that time, he didn't understand that Owen was doing it on purpose.
"You are unnecessary, the most redundant existence in this family." Quentin said to Connor.
Quentin Hawthorne had always been hostile towards Connor, who was not much older than him. He saw him as his biggest enemy, someone who would take everything that belonged to him.
Owen allowed everything to happen, even secretly instigating his son's hostility towards Connor.
Without a mother and with a father too busy to care for him, Connor lived in his own home as if he were an unwelcome guest, and it only got worse.
When he cautiously tried to share the Pierogies with Quentin, Quentin threw them on the ground and then falsely accused Connor of doing it.
"No, it wasn't me," Connor said cautiously.
"Connor, I've been so good to you, but you don't appreciate it. Instead, you don't cherish it. What should I do? I'm very sad," Owen looked down at Connor, exuding an overwhelming sense of pressure.
"Brother, it wasn't me, it was Quentin," Connor would try to explain at first.
Gradually, he stopped explaining.
"Should mistakes be punished?" Owen asked.
Connor nodded.
Owen commanded, "Then go kneel outside."
It was still snowing outside.
Connor knelt outside, and no one dared to speak up for him.
In this family, the eldest son of the Hawthorne family was older, and Connor was too young, too weak.
He needed to grow, to become strong, but the first prerequisite was to survive and grow up.
But from the look in Owen's eyes, it was clear he didn't want this poor child to grow up.
"Connor, you won't blame me, right? I'm doing this for your own good," Owen would stand with him in the snow, pretending to cough, as if to show that punishing Connor was also punishing himself.
Guilt had been planted in Connor's heart from a very young age.
That day, he developed a high fever, but the brainwashing continued, the constant murmuring that he shouldn't compete with Owen, Owen was the best, Owen was right.
Owen punished him because he made a mistake.
Many times, when Connor was punished to kneel in the yard, Avery would come out when Owen wasn't around. "Connor, why are you kneeling?"
"Because I made a mistake," Connor said, trembling all over. His last cold hadn't even healed, and he was still so young. If this continued, he would die.
"What mistake did you make?" Avery asked.
"The milk that Owen personally poured for me spilled on the ground," Connor's voice grew hoarser, and his thin, frail body was about to give out.
"Don't you hate my Dad?" Avery asked.
"No, he does everything for my own good. Whatever he does is right..." Connor's eyes were empty.
"But Connor, Quentin and I never get punished for breaking anything."
"Because he loves me the most," Connor couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed in the snow.
"Connor, you're so pitiful," Avery said coldly, looking at Connor.
Avery secretly called their grandfather, and the Hawthorne senior's people came and took Connor away.
If the Hawthorne senior's people hadn't come that night, Connor would probably have died from the high fever or various illnesses.
In the end, the matter was just left at that.
"Connor, there are some glass shards in your wound. They need to be removed, or it will get infected," Ryan William said, holding the CT results and sighing. "You drove off an overpass. You're really something. Your left arm has a radial fracture, but otherwise, you're lucky."
Connor snapped back to reality, looked up at Ryan, and smiled. "Yes, I'm lucky."
At the end of the corridor, Ethan leaned against the wall, waiting for the results.
He didn't go over to interrupt Connor's thoughts. Now was the time to let him figure things out on his own.
Owen would never tolerate him.
Besides Owen, Quentin wouldn't tolerate him either.
Even if Owen wasn't the mastermind behind tonight's car accident, he was definitely involved.
"Mr. Douglas, we've identified the cars those people used. The license plates were fake, and the police can't trace them. They're still at large, but we suspect they might be foreign mercenaries," the bodyguard whispered in Ethan's ear.
"Recently, some thugs from Starlink Club have come around. They're all desperados. Quentin has shares in Starlink Club," the bodyguard reminded.
Ethan nodded.
It was clear that the person who wanted Connor dead tonight was Quentin.
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