Estelle echoed Serena’s sentiment with manufactured enthusiasm.
Annika couldn’t be bothered to engage with the two of them and their little act.
Seeing Annika ignore them, Estelle was the first to lash out. “Annika, we rushed over to congratulate you as soon as we heard you were carrying my brother’s child, and this is the thanks we get? Why the long face? Are you worried the baby isn’t a Beryl and we’re going to expose you, and then my brother will abandon you?”
Annika wanted to ask them how they’d found out about her pregnancy so quickly, but she bit her tongue. Estelle was caustic and cold-hearted, and now she had Serena, who clearly wished her ill, by her side. She had no desire to waste her time or energy on these two.
Without a word, Annika ripped the IV needle from the back of her hand, got out of bed, and started getting dressed.
Estelle stared at the thin line of blood trickling down Annika’s hand and shrieked, covering her face. “Conrad, look at her—!”
Before Estelle could finish, Conrad grabbed Annika’s arm to stop her from leaving. He then turned to Serena, his expression strained. “Serena, your legs aren't well. You should go home. I’ll bring you some macadamia nuts later.”
Serena’s voice was soft and frail. “I told her we shouldn’t come, but Estelle insisted.”
Then she turned to her accomplice. “Estelle, if we cause Annika any stress, it’ll be our fault. Let’s go.”
As Estelle wheeled her away, Serena glanced back over her shoulder at Annika, a strange, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. It fanned the flames of a nameless fury in Annika’s chest.

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