The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1732

An eye…

A leg…

A person…

This was more terrifying than just killing her.

Andrew pressed his lips together, his mind racing. He could barely bring himself to imagine that the person pulling the strings might be his own mother.

***

The next morning.

Patricia, Matthew, and Lavinia hurried into the hospital, gathering around Shirley’s bedside with anxious faces.

“Grandma, I’m really okay.”

Shirley leaned against the headboard, her face pale but still managing a weak smile. She tried to sound stronger than she felt. “I’m sorry for making everyone worry.”

“Shirley, you don’t have to apologize.”

Patricia squeezed her hand, giving her a gentle pat as she filled the awkwardness with soothing words. Then her voice turned serious. “How could something like this even happen? Out of nowhere?”

Charlotte, sitting quietly on the sofa, spoke up in a low tone. “The police are already investigating. The guy who attacked Shirley said someone put him up to it. They’re checking his phone for clues.”

The words hung heavy in the room. For a moment, no one spoke. Everyone looked around at each other, worry in their eyes.

“Someone told him to do it?” Patricia’s face turned dark, her brows pulled tight with concern. “Do they know who? Has anyone been identified?”

Shirley pressed her lips together, silent and tense.

“The attacker is still unconscious from surgery,” Charlotte replied quietly. “The police will question him as soon as he wakes up. Then we’ll know the truth.”

Patricia didn’t respond, just fixed Shirley with a long, searching look, her gaze sharp with suspicion.

“Shirley, just focus on getting better. No matter who’s behind this, your grandma will fight for you.”

Shirley nodded, her eyes drifting to Andrew.

“Us?” The person on the line instantly changed his tone, trying to wriggle out. “All I did was find you a guy. The rest—that’s all your plan. Has nothing to do with me. If the police come knocking, they aren’t looking for me—they’re coming for you.”

“You—”

“That’s it. Good luck—you’re on your own.”

Before Dorothy could say a word, he hung up. When she tried calling back, it went directly to voicemail.

Damn it.

She hurled her phone onto the bed, hands pressed to her lower back as she shook, heart pounding and terror written all over her face.

Now what?

What was she supposed to do next?

How could she possibly fix this?