Chapter 5 Future Granddaughter-in-law

As I regained consciousness, my vision was engulfed by a harsh, blinding white light.

The sterile scent of disinfectant permeated the air, subtly hinting at my surroundings. Beside me, a woman clad in a crisp nurse's uniform busied herself with my charts, confirming my suspicions-I was in a hospital bed.

"You're awake," she announced, her voice infused with a warm, soothing timbre as she flashed me a gentle smile.

Memories of my last conscious moment fluttered back to me-I had desperately dialed Jaxton for help.

Puzzlement washed over me as I grappled with why, in my moment of crisis, his was the first name that had sprung to mind, especially considering he was the last person I should trust. And yet, here I was, waking up in an unfamiliar hospital room, with no sign of him.

Had he come to my rescue after all?

My heart pounded with a mix of hope and anxiety, prompting me to query the nurse, "How did I end up here?"

"Your family brought you in," the nurse explained calmly, her eyes locking with mine. "You were pregnant and nearly lost the baby. It was a close call, but fortunately, you got here just in time. Both you and the baby are stable now."

Her smile broadened, radiating reassurance.

A wave of unexpected disappointment crashed over me, and I felt the sting of tears beginning to form. So, it hadn't been Jaxton. But why had I hoped it would be?

In the end, we were just fuck buddies, a series of empty, casual flings that wrapped up with a bitter taste. Why would he bother to save me?

The more realistic scenario began to form in my mind-it had to be the Smith family. They had likely stumbled upon me unconscious. The thought of losing their precious profit finally made them shove me into the hospital, but it sure as hell wasn't out of love.

A tide of bitterness engulfed me, sending a sharp pang through my heart. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I clenched my jaw and suppressed them.

To cry was to show weakness, a luxury ill-afforded by the unworthy.

The nurse, with practiced motions, adjusted the IV drip, her presence a fleeting comfort before she vanished from the room.

Left alone, the hospital room expanded around me, its silence as profound and enveloping as a vast, unyielding tomb.

I once stumbled upon an article online claiming loneliness could be measured in ten stages, with the tenth being a solitary hospital visit.

At the time, I had scoffed at such an idea. Even if I experienced every scenario listed, loneliness was an alien concept to me-or so I thought.

Now, the crushing weight of that solitude bore down on me, its cold grasp clearer than ever.

I was engulfed in this desolation, each moment stretching on endlessly. No allies, no confidants-just the stark reality of facing everything alone. The sadness of it all was overwhelming.

In that silent room, a troubling question haunted me. Why was I fighting so hard to keep moving forward?

Life seemed an endless trial of hardship. What was the purpose of enduring such relentless pain?

Just as I teetered on the edge of despair, a sudden interruption snapped me from my brooding thoughts.

Brice slammed the door open with a furious kick and stormed inside, clutching a medical report. His voice thundered. "You fucking bitch! You're pregnant!"

Despite my body feeling weak, I mustered all the defiance I could, meeting his rage with a steady gaze. "Yes, I'm pregnant. What are you going to do about it, huh? Still planning to sell me to Hugh? Do you think he'd want a woman who's carrying another man's child?"

His face contorted with fury, and in a swift motion, he lunged forward, his hands clasping tightly around my neck. "Tell me who it is!" he demanded.

Gasping for breath, my voice barely a whisper, I replied, refusing to cower, "There are too many to count, and I don't remember them all."

"You disgraceful bitch, just like your worthless mother, born to be used by all!" Brice spat venomously.

His grip tightened mercilessly, his fingers pressing deep into my flesh. "If that's the case, then you might as well be dead!"

The intent to kill was clear in his eyes as he exerted all his strength into strangling me.

Desperate for air, my eyes bulged, my mouth hung open in a silent scream, and my hands clawed futilely at his steel-like grip, unable to loosen it even slightly.

The crushing sensation had me clawing for breath, my brain drowning in a fog of oxygen starvation.

Just as the edges of my vision began to blur and I thought I was on the brink of oblivion, a voice erupted from the doorway. "Stop!"

The command was sharp and urgent. In an instant, the iron grip on my neck loosened, and fresh air flooded my lungs, sparking a fit of violent coughs. Tears streamed from my eyes as I gasped for breath.

A gentle warmth spread across my back as a hand tenderly caressed it. Accompanied by a calm, soothing voice, the words floated to me. "Hey, are you alright?"

Lifting my head from the haze of my thoughts, I met the kind, compassionate gaze of an old man. Tears, unbidden, began to cascade down my cheeks.

Beside me stood this man, his age likely surpassing seventy. His hair was sparse and gray, his skin etched with deep lines of time, yet he carried an air of dignity and grace that was nothing short of remarkable.

His touch was warm, his gestures careful and delicate, as if he were handling the most precious of treasures. I felt fragile under his care, delicately cradled in kindness-a feeling that whisked me back to my childhood.

Back then, no matter the hardships, my grandmother would always envelop me in her soft embrace, whispering reassurances that no fear was too great, that the tough times would soon give way to better days.

A deep, unresolved sorrow welled up within me, and years of pent-up pain burst forth. Overwhelmed, I threw myself into the arms of this compassionate stranger and wept unrestrainedly, my cries muffled against his coat.

The old man's patience was boundless; he simply held me, softly patting my back, murmuring, "It's okay, it's okay..." His voice was a steady, comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions.

I couldn't tell how long my tears had flowed, but as I came to, realizing I was weeping into the arms of a complete stranger, my eyes puffy from crying, I was overwhelmed with mortification.

Yet, the old man beside me radiated tranquility, pulling up a chair next to my hospital bed. "What is your name?" he asked gently.

"I'm Cathy Howard," I replied, the edge that usually sharpened my voice had dulled, leaving a soft, compliant tone in its place.

"Alright, Cathy," he said, nodding slowly as he patted my hand comfortingly. "I'm Jaxton's grandfather, William Saunders."

His introduction made my eyes widen in shock, a gasp escaping my lips before I could catch it.

Then, he dropped a bombshell that left me reeling, his next words striking me like a sudden clap of thunder.

"I will have Jaxton marry you."

What... what the hell was going on?

Before I could gather my thoughts to respond, William stood, his presence commanding as he addressed Brice and Kacie, who hovered nearby. "Cathy is now my future granddaughter-in-law. Should anyone dare to harm her, rest assured, I will not let them escape my wrath."

"Y-Yes, understood!" Brice stammered, his face draining of color as he nodded frantically.

Kacie, her smile a gentle curve, said soothingly, "Don't worry, Mr. Saunders. We were perhaps too quick to judge earlier, presuming Cathy's reckless behavior led to these circumstances. Knowing the truth changes everything-we'll never act that way again."

William, casting a glance back at me, suggested, "Cathy, you should get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll bring that brat to apologize personally. And once you're out of here, we'll arrange for him to visit the Smiths and discuss the marriage."

"Huh?" My mind whirled, unable to keep pace with his plans.

William's smile was a beacon of reassurance. He offered no further explanations before exiting the room, leaving a trail of unsaid words hanging in the air.

As the door clicked shut, Brice's expression shifted drastically; his face clouded over, and his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Is the baby really Jaxton's?" he demanded sharply.

"No!" The denial burst from me instinctively.

With just one glance, I could read his mind-he was plotting to sell me off to the Saunders family, much like his earlier attempts with Hugh.

My vehement response seemed to stoke his anger further. He raised his hand, poised to strike, but seemed to recall William's earlier caution. His hand hovered in the air, unfulfilled. With a sneer, he hissed, "Even if it's not Jaxton's, if the Saunders family believes it, then it's as good as true! You'd better keep your schemes to yourself. You've already crossed Hugh; I might overlook that now that the Saunders family are in your corner. But mark my words, you mess with the Saunders family, and I'll send that old hag straight to hell!"