I had just come out of surgery, but was left standing there as a punishment. Clearly, I was worth less than Melina’s fake tears.
This was the eighteenth time he had abandoned me for her.
I was done swallowing my pride.
As the anesthesia fully wore off, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor.
Gritting my teeth, I called my father. “Dad, I need some people tonight. Send me two doctors as well.”
Since he refused to deal with Melina, I would handle them myself.
That night, with my father’s backing, I uploaded all the evidence reporting Melina to the internet.
Cedric might be able to suppress things behind the scenes, but public opinion was beyond his control.
I was lying in my hospital bed when the ward door was kicked open.
Melina stormed in, fury written all over her face. “Yvonne, you bitch! What nonsense did you post online?!”
With Cedric absent, she didn’t even bother pretending anymore.
I gave a subtle look to the people behind me.
Fortunately, my father’s men had arrived quickly, and they were sharp. One glance was all it took.
Tacitly, several of them rushed forward and restrained Melina.
Yet there was no panic in her eyes. Instead, she looked at me with confidence, a provocative smile curling her lips. “Who are you trying to scare? You really think you dare touch me? If you lay a finger on me today, tomorrow I’ll have Cedric divorce you.”
Voice dripping with contempt, she sneered, “If it weren’t for Mr. Winslow refusing to let us be together back then, do you really think you could’ve married him? You were nothing but a pawn that Cedric used to declare war on his grandfather. Do you really think he ever loved you?”
My face went pale. My heart stuttered painfully, then clenched as if being torn apart.
Back when Cedric and I got together, Mr. Winslow had indeed threatened me.
Yet Cedric, who had always been filial, openly brought me to public events—no different from declaring war on his grandfather.
I had even asked him once if he regretted it.
His eyes had been complicated, filled with emotions I couldn’t understand, as though he were looking through me at someone else.
He sighed, rubbed my head, and said softly, “Yvonne, I just don’t want to regret it again. So, this time, I’ll hold on to you.”
At the time, blinded by love, I hadn’t noticed how strange that word "again" sounded.