Chaos erupted across the Yale estate. Mr. Yale's expression changed instantly. "Enough, knock it off! Butler, get them both to a sickroom!"
Thanks to Mr. Yale's profession, his estate was fully equipped. Calling it a miniature hospital wouldn't be an exaggeration.
The butler hurried over to assist Leo and Tessa. In the confusion, Tessa clutched her handbag tightly to her chest.
But Leo swatted away the butler's helping hand, staring stubbornly at Willow.
Willow met his gaze, feeling slightly bewildered.
In her previous life, she had never heard of Leo suffering from any illness. Why was a perfectly healthy man suddenly coughing up blood?
He had completely ruined the floor.
Leo had no idea what she was thinking. His eyes, so similar to hers, were brimming with tears. His lips trembled, and he murmured softly. It took him a long time just to force out two words, "I'm sorry..."
Willow paused for a second, immediately understanding what he was referring to.
Then, she let out an abrupt laugh. It wasn't loud, but it rang out with piercing clarity through the silence.
Silas instantly flared up, glaring at Willow with fiery rage. "Leo is in this state, and you're actually in the mood to laugh? You really don't care about him at all! Willow, what right does an ungrateful wretch like you have to be our sister?!"
Willow stopped laughing. Physiological tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She stared at Silas with an almost eerie calm and said, word by word, "Silas, don't you think he deserves it?"
Silas was stunned, completely at a loss for words.
Willow's tone bordered on absolute apathy—the self-preservation of a heart that had been shattered too many times.


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