The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 871

“Miss, are you okay?”

The nurse’s hands shook as she hurried to gather the scattered reports, her voice trembling. “Mr. Hawk, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I…”

“Quiet. Leave.”

Franco’s patience snapped at the sound of her nervous chatter. He leaned over Nora, concern creasing his brow.

Thankfully, Nora seemed unharmed.

Charlotte stood frozen, gripping the stack of medical reports. Under the brim of her cap, her eyes didn’t move from the two in front of her.

Steven’s words kept replaying in her mind.

Her mother’s organs had failed soon after giving birth. Overwhelmed by the pain, she’d jumped into the sea. The tide was high that day, and her body had never been found.

More than ten years had passed.

Everyone else had moved on, accepted her mother was gone. And yet, here she was, standing right in front of Charlotte. She looked exactly like the woman in her memories.

But if her mother was alive, why had she never tried to find her?

Nineteen years. Nineteen years gone.

Charlotte pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping to Franco’s back. She thought of the DNA report—“paternity not confirmed”—and her brow tightened.

There were only two explanations. Either Franco really was her father and her mother had kept her a secret. Or there was no connection between them at all.

But what she couldn’t figure out was why her mother never came back for her. And what about the Gates family? Was it her mother’s choice to stay away, or had Franco stopped her?

The more she tried to understand, the colder her eyes grew. There was a sharp edge there now, something dangerous.

“What are you staring at?”

Franco had finished checking on Nora. He turned and caught Charlotte’s icy glare, his own brow tightening. “Don’t try any tricks with me.”

Franco cut her off, his eyes wary. “I’ve reached the end of my patience with you.”

Charlotte noticed how protective he was and spoke calmly, “You can stay. Everyone else needs to go.”

“Everyone else, out.” Franco’s tone left no room for argument.

He still held the Covid-X she needed, so he didn’t feel threatened by her. Besides, this was the presidential residence. No one got away with anything here.

The doctors and nurses filed out. The room grew quiet.

Charlotte set her backpack down and pulled up a chair beside the bed.

She hesitated for a moment, then reached out, her movements stiff. Her cool fingertips touched Nora’s palm, gentle and uncertain.

Maybe it was something about blood ties.

The second their skin touched, Charlotte felt a jolt—a spark that shot from the soles of her feet right to her head.