"I worked so hard to find and bring her home," she went on, "not to make up for lost years—but to make her Patricia's walking blood bank!"
She grew more agitated as she spoke. "If something happens to Denise now, what will we do about Patricia?"
"Enough," Weston cut her off sharply. "Even if that's true, you shouldn't have forced me to marry her."
"That's because... because—" Vivian faltered, a flicker of something complicated flashing through her eyes. Whatever she wanted to say, she swallowed it back down.
In the end, she only left two cold warnings.
"I don't care what happens between you and Patricia. First, Denise must live. Second, she must never learn the truth."
Weston's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "And what if she does? What can she possibly do—leave me?"
Under An's mother's furious glare, Weston finally nodded, saying nothing more.
Neither of them noticed the slight tremor of my eyelashes on the stretcher, or the single tear that silently slid down my cheek.
Even when I once learned that Vivian had gifted Patricia a luxury villa and an unlimited black card, I merely smiled faintly. After all, she had raised Patricia for eighteen years—how could she not love her?