The Wife He Forgot to Marry (Winona and Yule) novel Chapter 618

After changing into clean clothes, Giselle tried to feed Sylvan again. This time, he didn't fight her, and she managed to get some food down him. Just as she thought she could finally take a break, Sylvan suddenly started violently choking and threw up.

The vomit splashed not only all over his chest but straight onto Giselle's blouse.

Giselle froze. The stench hit her, and a powerful wave of nausea sent her gagging over the trash can.

The realization that she now had to clean up his vomit, strip him down, and sponge him off brought angry tears to her eyes. She wasn't a maid. She wasn't even his real daughter. Why was she doing this?

That night, after Sylvan finally went to sleep, Giselle went home, completely exhausted. She stood in the shower for over an hour, scrubbing her skin raw, but she still felt like she reeked of that stale, gross smell.

Her phone buzzed. It was Yulen. He wanted to meet at a bar.

Desperate for an escape, she agreed immediately.

Over drinks, Yulen complained incessantly about his miserable marriage, Tallulah's incompetence, Winona's coldness, and his stalling career.

In the past, Giselle would have stroked his ego, playing the perfect, understanding confidante. Tonight, she just found him annoying. The thought of going back to the hospital to clean Sylvan up tomorrow made her stomach churn all over again.

Yulen didn't notice her detachment. He kept talking.

After the bar, they ended up at a hotel. Right in the middle of things, Giselle's mind flashed back to Sylvan throwing up on her, and she violently gagged.

Yulen froze, his passion evaporating instantly. The sound of her retching killed the mood dead. He pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed with a dark scowl.

In the past, only Willow and Yulen's sisters dared to treat her like dirt. But ever since Yulen stopped coming home, even the staff felt emboldened to disrespect her.

Tallulah stared at the maid with dead, hollow eyes, saying nothing as she walked toward her bedroom.

The maid scoffed loudly behind her. "Living here like a queen, not lifting a finger, and she doesn't even know how good she has it. She can't even serve her mother-in-law properly. No wonder Mr. Locke doesn't want to come home."

Tallulah heard every word. Her hands balled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She wanted to turn around and slap the woman. But she held back. The last time she snapped at the staff, Willow had chewed her out and cut her allowance. Now, she was down to a measly allowance that wouldn't even cover a designer handbag.

She had no power to fight back. She just had to survive. Willow was getting old. One day, the Locke family would be hers. She just had to outlast them.