Chapter 41: [Sincere or wicked]

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The hospital corridor was alive with chaos. Doctors and nurses hurried past with grave expressions, their hurried footsteps echoing against the cold white tiles. Maria was being rushed into the emergency room, her pale face barely visible beneath the oxygen mask.

Outside, Claire, Beth, and Madame Lana sat in strained silence. The once-confident Beth now fidgeted with her hands, her usual sharp tongue subdued by the weight of the events. Claire leaned back in her chair, her head tilted up toward the ceiling as she sighed deeply. Madame Lana's expression remained unreadable, but the lines of irritation etched on her face betrayed her inner turmoil.

Finally, Madame Lana broke the silence. Her voice, sharp and commanding, sliced through the heavy air.

"What happened? How did this happen?" Her tone demanded answers, though a faint edge of concern softened it.

Claire looked at Beth before inhaling sharply, her voice trembling as she began to explain.

"Lola... Maria came to us, and she looked tense. We were just talking about things for the wedding." She paused, the words catching in her throat. "She apologized—again—for the issues earlier. I... I kept quiet. I didn't want to argue. But Beth and Maria… they started fighting. Beth was only trying to protect me, telling Maria to stay away. We didn't know she would—" Claire stopped, biting her lip to keep from breaking down. She covered her face with her hands, her breaths uneven.

Beth placed a comforting hand on Claire's, her face pale but resolute. She picked up where Claire had left off.

"Madame, Maria was pestering Claire, asking for forgiveness. Claire told her she'd talk about it later, but Maria... she couldn't handle it. She got impatient and started yelling. She said…" Beth's voice wavered, her throat tightening, "'Claire, no matter what I do, you refuse to forgive me. Since I've become such an evil person, ruining your life... I'm better off dead. Maybe then you'll believe me.'"

Beth's gaze hardened as she continued.

"And before we could stop her, she grabbed a knife from the nearby fruit table and... slit her wrist. There was so much blood. She collapsed before we could do anything."

Madame Lana's lips thinned, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. Her face betrayed a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

"Stupidity," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than sincerity, this was just plain stupidity."

The trio lapsed into silence again, the weight of their thoughts pressing down on them. Then, a booming voice shattered the quiet.

"Where is my daughter? Who harmed her?"

They turned to see Mr. Vincent Wilson striding toward them, his eyes wild with fury as he approached the emergency ward.

Madame Lana let out an audible groan, her irritation palpable.

"Vincent, stop making a scene. She's being treated. Sit down and wait for the doctor."

Vincent's gaze snapped to his mother, his face twisting in anger.

"Mom, you were at Cain's place. How could you let this happen?" His voice trembled with barely contained rage.

Madame Lana's eyes narrowed, her patience worn thin.

"Aya! How was I supposed to know? Am I the babysitter for your precious princess?" she snapped, her tone biting.

"Mom—" Vincent gritted his teeth, his voice rising. "Who did this to her? Tell me everything."

Madame Lana rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Listen, Vincy. I went to Cain's place to relax for a few days—not that I could with your daughter's daily soap opera. And let me remind you, she's a grown woman. She should know better than to treat a knife like a toy."

Vincent's face twisted in disappointment.

"She's your granddaughter," he said, his voice heavy. "How could you speak about her like that?"

Madame Lana shook her head, muttering something under her breath, but Vincent's focus had already shifted. His gaze landed on Beth, standing close to Claire. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"And who are you?" he asked coldly.

Beth met his glare without flinching.

"I'm Claire's best friend. Beth."

Vincent's suspicion deepened, and he took a step closer.

"Did you play any part in this incident?" His voice was low but menacing.

Beth arched an eyebrow, her expression unyielding.

"Mr. Vincent, I don't have time for petty accusations," she said, her voice firm. "I'm too busy to waste my energy on lousy tricks, especially on strangers."

Claire pressed Beth's hand urgently, silently pleading with her to stop, but Beth wasn't done.

Vincent's anger flared.

"Lousy tricks?" he roared. "My daughter is in there fighting for her life, and you call this a lousy trick?"

Beth's lips curled into a smirk.

"With all due respect, sir, your daughter did this in front of us. She walked up to us, grabbed a knife, and hurt herself. If you ask me, Maria needs therapy—not blind support."

"Beth!" Claire hissed, her voice shaking.

Vincent's face turned crimson with fury. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, another voice cut through the tension.

"Enough!"

All heads turned to see Cain approaching, his presence commanding the room. His sharp gaze swept over the group as he stopped beside Vincent.

"We're here for Maria," he said, his tone firm. "Arguing won't change what happened. Let's focus on her recovery."

Vincent glared at Cain but didn't argue. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and turned away. Cain sat down beside Claire, his hand brushing hers in a silent gesture of reassurance.

Hours passed before the doctor finally emerged. Everyone stood as he approached, his expression unreadable.

"She's stable," the doctor said, his voice calm but serious. "She lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding. She'll need rest and psychological evaluation."

Relief washed over the group, though the tension remained palpable. Cain nodded at the doctor, his jaw tight.

"Can we see her?" he asked.

The doctor hesitated before nodding.

"Only for a moment. She's still weak."

The group entered the room one by one. Maria lay on the bed, pale and fragile, her eyes fluttering open as they approached. She looked at Cain first, then at Claire. Tears welled in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just... I wanted to make things easier for you and Claire. I thought... if I was gone, everything would be better."

Claire's chest tightened, guilt and frustration warring within her. Mr Vincent stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"Maria," he said caringly. "this isn't the way. If you need help, you should've come to me."

Maria's lips trembled, her tears spilling over.

"No dad, I no more want to be a burden, but... They all were so distant . I thought they hated me. I thought everyone did."

Mr Vincent sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"We'll talk later," he said. "Right now, you need to rest."

As they left the room, Claire's hand found Cain's. She squeezed it gently, her voice soft.

"We need to figure this out, Cain. This can't keep happening."

Cain nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He knew this was just the beginning of a much larger storm.

---

"Cain, I know Claire is a sweet girl, but-- I am finding Claire to be a problematic girl, I suggest you rethink about your wedding." Mr Vincent spoke firmly.

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