Chapter 3

Carson's face darkened immediately. "A maid dared lay hands on the mistress of the house? Bring her to the basement! I need to teach her a lesson!" It was the first time he'd ever punished one of my people, and it was plain as day that he meant to humiliate me. "She's lying. Francine didn't touch her at all," I blurted. However, Helena only cried louder. "She said that I'm just a foster daughter of the Lambert family and should be serving Mrs. Lambert. She even shoved me… Carson, I stayed up for nights to assemble that Airsoft pistol…" Carson's expression went completely cold. "Oh? So, you think a foster daughter should be bossed around by your maid? From today on, Helena is the Lambert family's official daughter. Let's see who dares to boss her around!" Then, he pointed at the pond and barked at Francine, "Get in there and find Ms. Helena's pistol. If you can't, don't come back up!" I hugged the Samoyed pup to my chest and tried to plead for Francine, but Francines had already gritted her teeth and jumped into the pond. The late-autumn water was ice-cold. When she hauled the pistol up, her lips were blue from the chill. As the butler was about to take her away for punishment, I couldn't stand it anymore and rushed forward to block Carson. Helena's gaze swept over the puppy in my arms, and she smiled. "That dog's adorable. I want it." Carson smoothed her hair indulgently. "Sure. It's yours." When he turned to me, his voice was sharp and absolute in a way I'd never heard in five years of marriage. "Winry, hand the dog over, and I'll drop Francine's punishment." To think he'd be willing to push me around like this, all for the sake of a young woman he'd picked up off the street. "Carson, I'll say it again—Francine didn't push her. Do you not trust my words?" I snapped. His brow tightened, and his tone chilled further. "Helena wouldn't lie to me. It's only a dog. Give it to her. I'll have someone find a purebred litter for you in a few days." My father and brother had gone through the trouble of finding and sending the puppy to me. Why should I give it away? Helena reached for the puppy. I couldn't care less about keeping up appearances anymore and shoved her hand aside. Her nails ripped into my wrist. The pain flared hot. My eyes stung with tears. I shook her off hard, and she screamed, tumbling into the low shrubs. Carson hurried to catch her. When he saw the blood on my wrist, the coldness in his eyes softened a little. "It's just a pet. Must you make such a scene? Hand the dog over and get your hand treated quickly…" No. It wasn't just a pet. It was the memory my family had given me. It was the kind of care and attention he'd stopped being able to offer. I clutched the pup tightly. Then, I felt the taste of iron in my mouth, and my vision swam. Before I lost consciousness for good, I saw Carson's face shift. He lunged toward me. For a brief moment, it almost looked like real worry. ... When I woke up, Francine's eyes were red as she dabbed something on my hand. The family physician stood at the bedside, his expression grave. "Mrs. Lambert, your heart has worsened significantly since your last check. Going forward, you need to be prepared for the worst." My heart sank. "How much time do I have left?" "At most six months. If things go poorly… maybe only a month or two," he replied. I gripped the sheet until my knuckles turned white. Francine told me Carson had been frantic, carrying me to the doctor. However, halfway through the dressing, he'd been pulled away by Helena, complaining of stomach pain. I pressed my palm to the bandage on my wrist, swallowed the lump in my throat, and whispered to the doctor. "I have a favor to ask of you. Don't tell anyone about my condition, okay? I don't want people laughing at me, and I don't want… their pity."