Ruan Jiaojiao had gone mad.
Not in the clinical sense, but in a complete breakdown that left her face contorted, her mind reeling with disbelief.
In her luxurious, brightly lit hospital room, her hysterical screams and cries echoed, only to be muffled quickly.
“Quick, someone get a towel to stop her from biting her tongue! Kulisna, don’t just stand there! She’s incontinent! Weier, get a cleaner…”
The pristine ward quickly filled with a foul odor.
While paralyzed from the waist down, Ruan Jiaojiao could still hear everything. Her bulging red eyes were wild with fury, and her body twitched uncontrollably. Her twisted features looked almost stroke-stricken—gone was the proud, arrogant woman she once was.
High-level paraplegia?
How could she possibly be paralyzed? Her future, her entire life…! This couldn’t be real.
This must be a nightmare, a terrible dream…
But her weakened body couldn’t handle the stress, and she fell into shock. After being resuscitated, she lay unconscious.
At that moment, a silver-gray Lincoln stretched limousine pulled up to the hospital, and a young man dressed in a tailored suit stepped out.
It was Marceau.
A storm of camera flashes followed as he walked forward.
Though he wore a polite expression, there was a slight stoop to his shoulders, and worry seemed to weigh on his brow, suggesting deep concern for his fiancée, Ruan Jiaojiao.
Reporters pushed forward, microphones nearly hitting Marceau’s face as they shouted questions.
“Master Marceau, are you here to see your fiancée, Miss Ruan Jiaojiao? Will you stay engaged to her now that she’s paralyzed from the waist down?”
“Mr. Marceau, what are your thoughts on the recent discovery of the Ruan Group’s hidden lab?”
“Master Marceau! With the Ruan family’s façade of righteousness now shattered, the world knows they were nothing but vile profiteers, hypocrites of the worst kind. Is Miss Ruan Jiaojiao the same? Will you remain by her side?”
“Mr. Marceau, can we interview Miss Ruan Jiaojiao now that she’s awake?”
“Word has it that Miss Walton, the heiress, has returned from abroad and has openly expressed her affection for you. Do you feel the same?”
“The Maso Group recently announced changes in leadership. Does this impact your future with Miss Ruan? We’ve heard your mother has always opposed the match…”
“Some say that if you leave Miss Ruan now, you’ll be remembered like China’s Chen Shimei. Any comment?”
“Mr. Marceau…”
The questions pelted Marceau relentlessly.
Annoyance flashed across his face, but he said nothing, allowing his bodyguards to clear a path into the hospital, leaving the reporters at the door.
Marceau knew that in minutes, the internet would be flooded with headlines and wild speculations.
But he didn’t care.
With one word, he could have those articles erased.
Or, if he wanted to clear public opinion, all he needed was a call to a few major media outlets.
After all, he was now the presumptive heir of the Maso Group—
The one in control.
The notion that he’d give it all up for a woman—a shallow, artificial, hypocritical woman—was inconceivable to him now.
He could hardly believe it himself; it was as if she had cast some strange spell on him.
As he approached the inpatient ward, a group of staff members, led by Director Bronte, quickly moved to greet him.
“Mr. Marceau, why didn’t you inform us ahead of time? We would’ve been ready to welcome you,” Bronte said respectfully.
“No need. How is Miss Ruan?” Marceau’s expression turned serious as he entered Ruan Jiaojiao’s ward.
“She woke up, asking for you, but when she learned of her high-level paralysis, she became hysterical and went into shock. She was resuscitated just before you arrived and is now in a deep sleep.”
Bronte spoke with calm professionalism.
In the past, when Marceau had been deeply infatuated with Ruan Jiaojiao, Bronte might have worried about repercussions. But now…
He had seen enough in his career to recognize the subtle shift in Marceau’s attitude toward Ruan Jiaojiao.
What was left now was simply a “responsibility” that Marceau couldn’t avoid.
As one of the country’s top private hospitals, the fact that Ruan Jiaojiao was here might suggest Marceau’s devotion, but if he truly cared, he would have brought her to the family estate’s private medical team, which was far superior to any public facility.
Yet he kept her here.
It was understandable—what person in their right mind would stay infatuated with a woman as superficial and selfish as Miss Ruan?
Abandoning her openly wasn’t an option, though. If Marceau cast her aside now, public opinion would shift instantly to vilify him.
Just as Bronte had expected, Marceau only said, “Thank you for your efforts. Make sure Miss Ruan is well taken care of so she can recover. Who’s the top psychologist here?”
“That would be Dr. Lillian. Shall I call her in now?” Bronte responded respectfully.
“Not yet. Just remember to have her meet with Miss Ruan regularly. High-level paraplegia isn’t easy for anyone to accept.”
Though he had lost all feeling for Ruan Jiaojiao, now feeling only disgust, frustration, and even anger, he kept his expression composed. “Please lead the way. I’ll go see her now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible at the moment, Master Marceau. You don’t know…”
A blonde nurse interjected with a soft voice, glancing at Bronte nervously before quickly cutting herself off.
Marceau didn’t rebuke her and instead asked, “What is it? Just say it.”
“I… I just think Miss Ruan’s dignity as a woman should be considered. I’d suggest waiting before you see her.”
The nurse looked up, her blue eyes wide with sympathy and understanding.
“She became overly emotional and went into shock, but she also… well, she lost control of her bladder and bowels. Even though she’s stable now, she hasn’t been cleaned up yet. The nurses are attending to it, but with her high-level paralysis… it’s hard to clean thoroughly. The odor is quite strong, so it might be best to wait about half an hour.”
The “thoughtful” words of the nurse were enough to make Marceau nauseous. He had a slight germophobia, and facing the waste of someone he now despised…
“Also, it seems she…”
The nurse hesitated, looking as though she wanted to say more.
“If there’s anything else, go on,” Marceau urged.
“Well, she seems to have some… feelings of resentment toward you. Before learning about her paralysis, she assumed you’d abandoned her. It might be better to clear that up before you meet her.”
A sneer flickered across Marceau’s face, though he kept his outward composure.
“She misunderstood me, it seems.”
That Ruan Jiaojiao was shameless. She had once bewitched him, pursued him with fake innocence, and now, after losing everything, played the victim.
“And… there’s something else I’m not sure I should say…”
The nurse continued cautiously.
“Say what you need to.”
“It’s just that Miss Ruan seems very lonely. When she woke up, she tearfully asked if Mr. Wright had visited. But when she learned he hadn’t, she looked devastated. Since you have a good relationship with him, maybe you could…”
“Yes, why not?”
Marceau nearly laughed in disbelief.
Ruan Jiaojiao hadn’t changed one bit.
This was how she’d been before. She’d flirted with Hortes while keeping him and Wright on her hook, along with countless other suitors.
How had he ever been blinded, thinking she was pure, charming, and kind?
But he was no longer the same, easily tricked fool.
“I’ll ask Wright to visit her. Please tell her not to be sad. But I have a meeting later, so I can’t stay for long.”
Marceau shook his head and sighed, “I’ll visit next time. Meanwhile, make sure Miss Ruan is comfortable, and if she needs anything, relay it to my assistant.”
As he spoke, his personal assistant stepped forward with a smile and pulled out his phone.
“Miss, would you mind adding my contact information?”
“Of course!”
The nurse quickly took out her phone.
The senior staff glanced at her, surprised that a nurse of her rank would be adding Marceau’s assistant’s number.
Bronte, too, smiled knowingly.
Once Marceau left, Bronte turned to her.
“Yana, come to my office.”
“Yes, Director.”
Yana pocketed her phone and followed Bronte inside, where they immediately shared a heated kiss.
Bronte held her face, smiling. “So, you’ve just cut off Ruan Jiaojiao’s last lifeline, haven’t you?”
“Have I?”
The sweetness in her expression had vanished, replaced by icy contempt.
With a cold smile and a gleam of deep hatred in her eyes, she responded, “She ruined my sister’s life with a few fake tears, earning a good reputation for herself, while my sister was left in disgrace, pushed to suicide. I’m simply being ‘considerate’…”
“As for cutting off her escape route?”
Her eyes narrowed with a glint of vicious satisfaction.
“That’s just the beginning.”
Her “blessing” is yet to come.
