Chapter 3

"Argh! What makes you think you have the right to strike him like that, you old hag?"

When Sylvia saw her beloved man getting slapped by me, she rushed toward me while shrieking at the top of her lungs. She was acting like a protective mother hen at the moment.

I decided to ignore Sylvia, opting to stare at Marcus instead.

Sylvia shoved me roughly, causing my abdomen to crash against the edge of the bed. Color drained from my face instantly as waves of intense pain hit me. I could barely stand up straight because of the excruciating pain.

"Honey!"

But Sylvia quickly rushed forward to hug Marcus' arm in an attempt to stop him from helping me up.

"Get lost, you insufferable woman!"

Marcus pulled his arm free from Sylvia's embrace and pushed her away, sending her tumbling to the floor. Then, he picked me up from the floor as he wanted to put me on the hospital bed to check my injury.

I just struggled against Marcus wildly so that I could hop off his arms. "How filthy!"

I was talking about both Marcus and the hospital bed.

Marcus was rooted to the spot. His eyes began to redden as he stared at me in a dumbfounded manner. He looked like an abandoned puppy who just got kicked.

"Mark, my belly hurts…"

Sylvia's moans of pain snapped Marcus out of his trance. He looked at me before looking at Sylvia, who was all curled up on the floor. Finally, he spoke up.

"I'm sorry, Jo. Just wait for me…"

As he spoke, he scooped Sylvia into his arms and began bolting out of the ward.

"Do you have any idea that your own daughter has gone missing? Are you sure you want to ignore your daughter's plight for the sake of that woman?"

Marcus paused in his tracks for a moment. In the end, he just left hurriedly with Sylvia in his arms without saying anything to me.

I closed my eyes, feeling the surge of hatred toward Marcus rises to a boiling point.

After that, I had no idea how I managed to go home. My mind was completely muddled. All I could think about was Cher's tear-streaked face.

Did she get beaten up? Did Samson starve her?

She must be super scared right now. Heck, she'd definitely wail while looking for me.

"Cher…" I sobbed to the point I couldn't even breathe.

My phone vibrated at that moment. It had received a notification. I jogged over to find my phone without bothering to deal with the blisters on my feet.

It was a message from Sylvia. There weren't any captions on the message. All it encompassed was a photo.

In the photo, Marcus' hand could be seen resting on Sylvia's belly, which had a tiny bump. His wrist still bore the watch I had given him when we were still dating.

But the wedding ring on his fourth finger was nowhere to be seen. Only a band of pale skin could be seen encircling that particular spot.

The thing was, I could still feel the wedding ring rubbing against my cheek when Marcus was wiping my tears away for me at the hospital.

How ironic.

I stopped my train of thought immediately. This time, I chose to cut to the chase.

"I know you and Marcus got together. Give my daughter back to me, and I'll get a divorce with him," I texted.

Soon, Sylvia responded with a text of her own. "What are you talking about? I don't understand a single word you just wrote. I'm pregnant with a baby boy, you know? Why would I need your daughter?"

I sweetened the deal. "I'm willing to get a divorce without asking for a single cent from Marcus as long as your brother brings my daughter back safe and sound. I don't want anything else."

Sylvia texted back, "Your beloved daughter has already gone missing, and yet Mark still refuses to accompany you at a time like this. What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me? Besides, how are you so sure that Mark doesn't play a part in your daughter's disappeareance?"

As I read Sylvia's text message, I felt chills running down my spine.

Marcus never came home for the next three days. Even though I visited the police station countless times, which led to Samson's eventual arrest, I still didn't get to see Marcus at all. Heck, I couldn't even reach him on his phone.

Finally, Marcus came home on the fourth night.

I just gazed at him numbly. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so hoarse and parched that I couldn't emit a sound.

Marcus behaved as he usually did—caring and gentle. Soon, he poured me a glass of water to soothe my parchedness. He didn't look guilty at all.

After accepting the glass of water, I instantly hurled it at Marcus' head. Perhaps he knew that he was in the wrong, for he didn't avoid the glass at all.

Instead, he chose to face my rage head-on. As such, his forehead began bleeding after the glass crashed into his head.