“If you have a grudge, take it out on me. Use the needle on me instead! Don’t hurt my son...”
Primrose’s parents hurried to help him up, their faces etched with sorrow.
But when their eyes fell on the bloodied needle in my hand, their expressions twisted into something cold and hateful.
“What crime have we committed? Carson, you can’t have children, and now you want to kill my only grandson…”
Primrose snatched the child from my arms, trembling as if I’d become a danger.
“Hurry! Call the private doctor!”
I stared dumbfounded at the needle in my palm.
Only then did the chilling truth hit me: I had walked right into their trap.
“I didn’t do it, Primrose. That needle wasn’t mine...”
Her face hardened like ice.
“Carson, I believed you were upright and honest. A refusal meant a refusal. I even spent days trying to persuade you. But I never imagined you could be so cruel, trying to kill my son.”
A wave of helplessness crashed over me. “I swear, I really didn’t do it.”
“You didn’t?”
Primrose stepped closer, her eyes sharp and unforgiving.
“That thick needle was lodged in Alec’s head. Today, only you and Gideon held him. And you still deny it?”
“You expect me to believe it wasn’t you, then that Gideon, his own father, tried to hurt his son?”
Disappointment darkened Primrose’s gaze.
“If you can’t accept this child, then go to the mountain resort for a few days. Calm yourself.”
That very day, bodyguards escorted me away. Primrose said I could return once I’d come to my senses.
The rain poured relentlessly the day I left.
Inside the house, Primrose paced restlessly, her steps quick and nervous. Suddenly, she bit her lip, snatched an umbrella, and dashed into the storm.
“Carson, take this umbrella,” she called out.
“While I’m gone, take care of yourself. I’ll wait for the day you come back.”
I caught the familiar warmth in her eyes and smiled, but I didn’t reach for the umbrella.
“We’ll see.”
Without a glance back, I turned and walked away, every step firm and certain.
Primrose didn’t know, I had no intention of returning.
The next day, settled in the mountain resort, a message popped up, another video from that mysterious account, the same one from two years ago.
The screen showed a noisy KTV sofa, but their conversation cut through the clamor with chilling clarity.
“Did you wear one?”
Gideon chuckled darkly. “You didn’t again? Aren’t you scared you’ll get pregnant and your husband will leave you?”