Gideon’s face drained of color, turning deathly pale as he shouted, “Brother Carson, I know Alec isn’t your real son, and you have no bond with him, but you can’t be this cruel! If you have a grudge, take it out on me! He’s not even two yet. How could you stab him with such a thick needle?”
The noise startled the Archival family outside.
They rushed in to find me holding the child, a bloody needle clutched in my hand, my face frozen in shock.
Gideon was sobbing on his knees before me.
“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.