Chapter 5
Samuel’s expression shifted, softening momentarily as if basking in praise. But when my next words reached him, his face froze.
“If he hadn’t left me to save his ‘goddess‘ in a critical moment, I wouldn’t have met the relentless dedication of my attending doctor or Dr. Wright’s commitment. I also owe thanks to my husband’s ‘goddess, Lila Whitmore. Without her, I wouldn’t have known that an amniotic embolism was just a ‘minor issue‘ in my husband’s eyes–something not worth dying over.”
Lila, watching from the hallway, turned pale.
The hospital executives quickly cut the interview short. Samuel was reprimanded by his superiors, and in a rage, he stormed to my room, only to find Mrs. Thompson tidying up.
“Where’s Morgan?”
She was there a moment ago, and now she was gone.
Mrs. Thompson’s voice was curt. “Her parents have already arranged for a private recovery center. They just picked her up.”
“She left just like ob
“She left just like that? After everything with Lila, she should’ve offered to take her too!” Samuel barked.
He tried calling me, only to realize I’d blocked him on everything.
Frustrated, he called my parents.
My parents had divorced when I was young and hadn’t been very involved in my life. The only time my father intervened was when I was desperately chasing after Samuel.
Back then, my father, Professor Charles Bennett, had been Samuel’s mentor and, seeing my persistence, arranged opportunities for me. But he was never affectionate, and Samuel once asked me about it. I told him the truth–my father had always favored boys, and I’d been unwanted
from birth.
Samuel took this in stride. After we married, my father was supportive of Samuel, using every resource to advance his career. Samuel, emboldened, would sometimes mock me when he was drunk.
“You’re such a pitiful thing, Morgan. Your own father prefers me to you. You’re unloved.”
I used to believe that. After all, my father’s contact with me had increased only after our marriage, mostly to sing Samuel’s praises. He’d rush to help whenever Samuel called, fostering Samuel’s delusion that he was like a son to him.
“Dad! Morgan’s gone too far. You heard what she said in that interview, right? It’s affecting my reputation and my colleagues‘!”
“I heard you and Mom took her to a private recovery center. My colleague just had a baby too. Can you help arrange for her to go as well? Have Morgan cover the cost.”
My father, sitting beside me, knew the whole story of my emergency. His expression was dark, eyes furrowed.
“Samuel, do you really think you’re my son?”
Samuel was baffled by the first words out of my father’s mouth.
My dad gave a cold chuckle. “Even though Margaret and I divorced and weren’t there for Morgan as we should’ve been, don’t think for a second that an outsider like you would ever surpass my daughter in my heart.”
I sipped my soup as my mom handed me my favorite coconut–flavored dessert.
“Your dad specifically asked the kitchen to make this for you,” she said, her eyes warm.
I ate with tears in my eyes as my dad, standing up, spoke firmly into the phone. “We treated you well, Samuel, because we wanted you to be good to Morgan. Not because I preferred sons or favored you. Boy or not, you’re not my child. I’m not that foolish.”