Sydney spun around, disbelief and rage igniting. “Preston! What have you done?! You dug up Julien’s ashes?!”
Preston frowned at her furious gaze.
Savannah, pretending to reason, stoked the fire. “Don’t blame Preston, Sydney. After Chicago returned to the country, he wasn’t feeling well. Someone said some unclean spirit was harming him, so Preston had Julien’s ashes dug up.”
Sydney glared at Preston. “You fucking dug up Julien’s ashes?! Aren’t you afraid of karma?”
Savannah clutched her mouth, gasping. “Sydney! How can you curse Preston like that?”
Preston’s expression turned menacing. “Get lost! Make the soup!”
Sydney’s chest heaved violently, rage threatening to scorch her sanity.
Her Julien had been so obedient, so gentle, tormented by illness in life, and now, even in death, he was disturbed.
She couldn’t let him suffer further.
For him, she went to the kitchen.
The soup was ready when Savannah suddenly cried out, “Ouch! My hand! Sydney! Why did you pour this hot soup on me?!”
Hearing the panic, Preston rushed over and held Savannah in his arms.
His gaze, dark and murderous, shot to Sydney. “Do you want to die?!”
Sydney stood tall, her back straight. “I didn’t do it. She’s pretending.”
Veins bulging on his forehead, his eyes cold as steel, Preston suddenly pressed Sydney’s hand into the boiling soup.
“Ahhh!”
Her scream of agony tore through the room. Waves of searing pain crashed through every nerve ending, her hand’s skin instantly reddened, blisters swelling and spreading her skin. The sight of it was grotesque and alarming to look at.
She bit her lip hard, body convulsing in agony, struggling desperately but unable to escape the searing agony that reached her bones.
Her tears mingled with sweat, blurring her vision.
After a while, Preston finally let go but hit her in the belly. “Savannah treats you like a sister, but you’re so wicked you purposely tried to burn her hand! If anything happens to her, I swear I will never forgive you!”
After that, he dashed off with Savannah to the hospital.
Meanwhile, Sydney lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. She knew exactly what that meant.
Her face was pale as death. The pain was worse than death itself.
The sharp scent of disinfectant hit her nose. Sydney woke up in the hospital again.
The blisters on her hands had been drained and bandaged.
The bad news—she had miscarried. Another child of hers was gone.