He Gave Me Hearing, Then Taught Me What Silence Really Means novel Chapter 233

The two brutal slaps left Beatrice reeling. She looked utterly pathetic, slumped on the damp restroom floor, in stark contrast to the impeccably dressed Lydia towering over her.

It brought back the humiliating memory of the wedding banquet, the day Lydia had slapped Juniper in front of everyone.

Lydia had only come to vent her rage. Now, her expression was freezing cold as she let out a disdainful scoff. "I can't wait for the day Juniper gets passed around until she's sick. Trash like you dreaming of climbing the social ladder? Keep dreaming."

She turned on her heel and walked away, her retreating figure practically dripping with aristocratic arrogance.

Beatrice sat frozen on the floor, covering her face with her hands as the tears spilled over.

People walked by occasionally, and a passing nurse even stopped to ask if she was feeling unwell.

Beatrice shook her head. Using the wall for support, she slowly pulled herself up, wiped the tears from her face, and shuffled back to the ward.

Brooks was inside, cradling his newborn like the baby was made of glass.

He had already heard the news. Their father's treatment was officially scheduled. He assumed Juniper had gone and begged the dowager for help.

"Mom, what are you crying for? Juniper went and asked Eleanor Saint for a favor. Did you forget? The old lady has always loved her."

He paused, suddenly noticing Beatrice's swollen cheek. His hands tightened in anger. "Who hit you?"

Beatrice just sat in the chair, her eyes entirely vacant.

A short while later, Director Vance returned with an update. The overseas team had already departed and would arrive by tomorrow at the latest. They would perform a full examination on Walter upon arrival, having already reviewed his medical files and data.

Brooks let out a heavy sigh of relief. "That's amazing. We can finally stop worrying."

He glanced down at his paralyzed legs and offered a bitter smile. "If only I hadn't been in that accident."

Beatrice remained trapped in her agony. With her limited education, she couldn't articulate exactly why she felt so devastated in that moment.

She buried her face in her hands, the stinging pain on her cheek mixing with her tears until she felt ready to shatter.

Deep down, he resented Beatrice for her past affairs. It was a secret he had never openly confronted her about, but he found it shameful. Naturally, it made him favor his father.

Beatrice closed her eyes, her face throbbing with pain.

After a long silence, she spoke, her voice entirely hoarse. "I just don't know when your sister will ever be cured."

"Mom, why are you worrying about that right now?"

"She's your sister! Why shouldn't I worry? She's mentally ill! Do you have any idea how people treat a woman that beautiful when she has a mental illness?! Do you remember that homeless woman who wandered into our village all those years ago? She was crazy, and her belly was never flat. God knows how many babies she lost. Is that the kind of future you want for your sister?"

Brooks fell silent. He did remember that homeless woman.

In this society, you saw homeless men on the streets, but rarely ever homeless women.

Women weren't allowed the luxury of just wandering. They had reproductive value. More often than not, they were paired off with some family's simple-minded son just to breed. The few who did end up on the streets were perpetually pregnant—losing babies and conceiving again in an endless cycle. That was exactly what had happened to the woman in their village.