The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 200

200 Chapter 200 Inherited Your Disgusting Habits

Blanche’s POVO

After Vincent walked out that night, sleep became impossible. I twisted and turned in bed, wrestling with sheets that felt like they were conspiring against me. Zain’s vow to come back? Nothing more than smoke and mirrors now.

The nurse’s morning check–in found me still staring at the ceiling, more alert than ever.

I snatched my phone and dove into mindless video scrolling. Wouldn’t you know it–Joanna’s profile popped up again.

I’d already marked her content as unwanted, but the algorithm seemed hell–bent on shoving it down my throat.

Against my better judgment, I watched the whole damn thing.

Her post was a compilation of brief clips stitched together.

First up: Joanna’s tear–stained face in close–up, with

some shadowy male figure lurking behind her.

Zain, obviously. Looked like he was working her

shoulders.

Second clip: Zain strolling toward the bathroom in nothing but a robe, casual as you please.

Third: His back to the camera as he started peeling off that robe. Right when half his bare skin came into frame–cut.

The whole montage played over some sickeningly sweet soundtrack.

Her caption read: [Had the worst day–picked the wrong research angle and got torn apart by my advisor. Called you but no answer. The second I texted about feeling awful, you shot back that you were on your way. Seeing you made everything just pour out of me. But then you said “Don’t cry,” and somehow that steadied me. You promised to make me feel better, though your method definitely caught me off guard.

God, I love how you surprise me without saying a word.]

Christ, I actually went frame by frame through that thing like some kind of detective.

So Zain apparently “cheered up” Joanna between the sheets. I had to bite back a bitter laugh at my own

deduction.

After that digital torture session, I locked my screen.

Thinking about Zain’s empty promise from last night just made me want to laugh at my own stupidity.

Joanna sends one sad text and he drops everything, racing over to worship at her altar.

Meanwhile, his feverish wife sits here completely forgotten.

I dragged myself up and got cleaned up. Once I felt human again, checking on my daughter seemed like the right move.

As I approached the pediatric VIP wing, still hunting for Carry’s room, her bright voice rang out: “Grandma Lillian, I missed you so much!”

The sound stopped me cold.

I missed whatever Lillian said back.

But I kept moving toward Carry’s room anyway.

I hovered outside the door, not knocking yet.

Just wanted a quick peek to make sure my little girl was okay. If she was fine, that would be enough to settle my nerves.

I stuck my head around the doorframe and spotted Lillian spoon–feeding Carry.

At first glance, nothing seemed off. Then I watched Lillian chew food in her own mouth before

transferring it back to the spoon and lifting it toward Carry.

All while murmuring sweetly, “Carry, be good. Eat what Lillian prepared for you, and your illness will vanish.”

I grimaced, thinking, ‘Surely Carry will reject that.‘

But no–to my horror, Carry opened her mouth, ready to accept it.

Just as that pre–chewed spoonful was about to enter

my daughter’s mouth, I snapped and kicked the door

wide open.

“Carry, don’t eat that!” I yelled.

Carry froze, staring at me as I stormed through the doorway.

I marched straight to Lillian and slapped the bowl from her grip in one fluid motion.

Broth and food exploded everywhere, coating Lillian

head to toe.

Before she could react, I snarled, “Are you completely revolting? Is this how you feed children?”

Lillian finally processed what happened, grabbing tissues to dab at her soaked clothes while snapping back, “What’s revolting about it? Joanna and Nathan were raised exactly this way!”

I rarely lost my temper completely, but this time I unleashed everything. “That explains why Nathan and Joanna inherited your disgusting habits.”

Lillian shot to her feet, stabbing her finger at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was up early

making this breakfast–spent ages on it! You waltz in and destroy it all? Then you insult my children? Blanche, what did I ever do to you?”

Right as she finished her rant, the door swung open from outside.

Mr. Stewart entered.

He’d been trying to visit Carry since hearing about her illness but couldn’t find the time until now. Walking into this chaos was the last thing he’d expected.

The moment he stepped inside, Mr. Stewart found

Lillian and me in a heated face–off.

He approached, automatically siding with Lillian, and demanded, “What’s happening here?”

Lillian immediately launched into her sob story. “Blanche burst in out of nowhere and destroyed the breakfast I slaved over for Carry. Instead of showing any appreciation, she called Joanna and Nathan disgusting!”

I stood aside, staying silent. Explaining myself to Mr. Stewart wasn’t worth the breath–he meant nothing to

1. me.

After Lillian’s performance, Mr. Stewart glanced at Carry, paused, then asked gently, “Carry, did things happen like Lillian said?”

Mr. Stewart seemed unsure about the situation, but I could tell from his expression that he probably figured children usually speak honestly.

Ever since I’d burst in, Carry had been sitting quietly

at the head of her bed.

When Mr. Stewart finally asked, she looked up and said, “Uncle Stewart, Grandma Lillian told the truth. Mom really did knock over the breakfast, and she said bad things about Miss Joanna and Uncle Nathan.”

Hearing this, Mr. Stewart reached over to pat Carry’s hair, then straightened and pinned me with a cold stare, his voice cutting. “Did Zain ever warn you to stay away from Carry unless absolutely necessary?”

I shrugged carelessly, completely unbothered. “Nope, never mentioned anything like that.”

Carry’s words stung, sure, but after countless similar

moments, I’d grown numb to the pain.

Can’t even feel it anymore.

Mr. Stewart fixed me with an unblinking stare, his tone firm. “You’re exactly the type of person who’d corrupt Carry. Don’t you see that?”

I laughed shortly at that, firing back immediately, “Honestly, someone as blind and heartless as you, Mr. Stewart? You’re far more likely to turn Carry into an idiot.”

Mr. Stewart had rarely seen me this fierce, and for a moment, he just stood there stunned.

When he finally spoke, his voice dropped dangerously low. “Get out. Don’t make me call security to drag you

out.”

I shrugged again, completely unfazed. “No need. I wouldn’t waste another second in this pathetic place anyway.”

I turned to leave, but the rage still burned in my chest. I spun back toward Mr. Stewart and fixed him with an icy glare. “Even though you despise me, let me offer

you a blessing–may your future children encounter someone exactly as ‘wonderful‘ as Lillian Vins.”

I spat out “wonderful” like it was poison.