Nathan was trembling with rage, his chest heaving with every breath.
Adah's heart ached as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. Clutching her chest, she sobbed, "Claire, it's not like that. Your father and I brought you into this world out of love. Truly, you must believe us."
Claire almost laughed out loud at her words, and in fact, she did chuckle.
But there was no warmth in her smile—only scorn and a deep sense of sorrow.
Love her?
She stood right in front of them, her head wrapped in bandages—a detail that even May had noticed. Yet, her own flesh and blood seemed oblivious.
Not a word of concern, only accusations.
Claire's eyes turned red with anger.
Pointing to her forehead, her voice rose to a sharp pitch. "I've been here for ten minutes, haven't I? In those ten minutes, has anyone bothered to ask about the injury on my forehead?"
"Do you truly not see it, or are you just pretending not to? Or maybe you see it but simply don't care."
"Mrs. Linwood, you've made me feel utterly worthless, and yet you claim to love me. Do you even realize how absurd that sounds?"
Her voice reverberated through the room, each word a dagger aimed at everyone present.
"You say you love me, but where is that love?" Finally, Claire's tears broke free, cascading down her cheeks, her body trembling with the force of her emotions.
Adah's sobs halted abruptly.
Prompted by Claire's words, she noticed the wound on Claire's forehead and the bloodstains on her clothing for the first time.
Adah's heart broke, and she wanted to embrace Claire, but the coldness and defiance in Claire's eyes held her back.
"Claire, what happened to your head?"
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