She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 896

"Just a little," Lucian replied smoothly, his eyes instantly turning incredibly tender at the mention of his wife. "But I was never as terrible as you. I didn't dare try to lock your sister up, because she would have absolutely murdered me first."

He looked up at Hank, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.

"We're different. I fixed my mistakes early, so there was still room for redemption. But you—"

He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication hit hard.

Hank leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

After a long time, he opened them, stared down at the needle in his hand, and ruthlessly ripped it out.

A trickle of blood welled up, but he ignored it, grabbing a tissue to press against the puncture mark before throwing the covers aside to look for his shoes.

Lucian watched him without a hint of surprise or an attempt to stop him. He simply raised an eyebrow.

"Leaving already?"

Hank bent over to tie his shoes. When he stood up, he swayed slightly, having to grip the edge of the mattress to steady himself.

He looked even paler than before, his lips completely devoid of color, yet he somehow managed to pull off a reckless smile. "Can things really get any worse than they are right now?"

Lucian chuckled softly.

When Morris returned to find an empty bed, he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "What kind of terrible advice did you give him this time?"

"It wasn't terrible advice," Lucian replied. "I'm just following my wife's orders to help her brother out."

Knowing his sister was behind this, Morris swallowed his complaints and let out a tired sigh.

The elevator doors chimed open. Giselle stepped out holding a bag of groceries in one hand and holding Gigi's hand with the other.

Five-year-old Gigi had her hair tied in two little buns and wore a pink backpack, humming a nursery rhyme she had just learned. She looked up at her mother, her eyes sparkling. "Mommy, what's for dinner? Grandma promised she'd make me sweet and sour ribs!"

"Yeah," Giselle replied softly, a gentle smile touching her lips. "Grandma also said she was going to make your favorite scrambled eggs with tomatoes. But she's stuck at work tonight, so I'm going to make it for you."

"Yay! I love your cooking the most!" Gigi swung her mother's hand, skipping happily down the hall.

The mother and daughter chatted cheerfully as they turned the corner. Suddenly, Giselle stopped dead in her tracks, her smile instantly replaced by a cold stare.

There was someone standing in front of her door.

He was leaning heavily against the wall, his shoulder and hand pressed flat against the paint as if he were using every last ounce of strength just to keep himself upright.

As they got closer, she realized it was Hank.

She turned around and waved at Giselle. "Mommy, come here! He's sick, we have to help him!"

Giselle stood frozen, the grocery bag heavy in her hand. Her feet felt nailed to the floor.

She looked at Hank, her eyes devoid of sympathy, and pulled out her phone. "What's your assistant's number? I'll have someone come pick you up. My apartment isn't a hospital. That's where you belong."

Gigi looked back and forth between her mother and the man, entirely confused. She didn't understand why her mom was being so mean to the man who had rescued them from the bad guys.

Hank leaned against the wall, watching Giselle dial her phone. A bitter tightness gripped his throat.

"I don't have an assistant," he said.

Giselle glanced at him, clearly not buying it.

"It's true," he whispered hoarsely. "I sent everyone away. Drivers, secretaries, assistants—they all have the day off. No one is coming for me."

He paused, adding with a reckless honesty, "I did it on purpose."

Giselle's finger stopped hovering over the screen. She stared at him for two agonizing seconds.

"Hank, how old are you?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Do you really think this is going to make me feel sorry for you?"