Chapter 783

“Exactly!” Peggy spat, the memory of Jennifer’s insults fueling her rage and a vicious need for payback. She glared at Jennifer, venom dripping from every word. “You were never wanted. If that pathetic hospital hadn’t refused to terminate, you’d never have been born—you wretched mistake.”

Every word from Peggy was a jagged shard, twisting deeper into Jennifer’s core. ‘Never wanted, abortion, wretched mistake…’ The words echoed, each repetition a fresh laceration. Jennifer’s chest constricted; drawing breath felt like swallowing glass.

‘So… this is my birth mother’s truth,’ The realization was a lead weight dragging Jennifer’s heart into an abyss. ‘I was an error. A mistake.’ All color bled from her face, a ghostly pallor settling over her features.

A sudden warmth enveloped Jennifer’s icy fingers—Evelyn’s weathered hand closing around hers. Jennifer flinched, startled. Evelyn held on, her grip firm yet gentle against Jennifer’s chill.

“Hannah, sweetheart, shut her out,” Evelyn pleaded, her voice thick with tears. “I want you. I love you. If you’ll have me, I am still your mother. Let’s go home. Let’s be a family again.”

Jennifer yanked her hand away from Evelyn. She was deaf to comfort, blind to anything but the poison dripping from Peggy’s lips—each syllable a shard of glass shredding her insides. She felt suffocated, her heart dissected, the remnants ground under a cruel heel.

“Do the test.” The words scraped from Jennifer’s throat, her lips trembling violently. It took every shred of her remaining strength.

“Blood. Hair. Whatever you need. Just do it. I refuse to accept a single shared molecule with that woman. She is not my mother. She can’t be. I would rather be nothing than be hers.”

Gone was the longing for a powerful, wealthy, or admirable mother. None of that mattered now. Her sole, desperate prayer was that the venomous woman before her—the source of her deepest revulsion—shared not a single strand of her DNA.

The blood drawn, the samples sent, Jennifer retreated into a shell of unnerving calm. An eerie stillness settled over her. Beneath the surface, she knew the last thread of her composure was unraveling.

“We’ll contact you immediately with the results, Ms. Nelson,” the officer stated.

“Understood.” Jennifer gave a wooden nod. “If there’s nothing further, I’m leaving.”

“Nothing else for now. You’re free to go. Just ensure your phone remains reachable—we might need to contact you,” the officer confirmed.

A curt nod was her only reply. Without another word, Jennifer turned on her heel and walked out.

“Hannah, wait!” Evelyn cried out, rushing after her. She caught Jennifer’s arm, her grip desperate.

“Hannah, I had no idea you’d be here today,” Evelyn’s voice cracked. “Please, darling, hear me. Her words are poison—don’t swallow them. No matter what happened, you are my daughter. You will always be my daughter.” Tears streamed down Evelyn’s face.

“Seeing you and Lucas, my precious children, broken like this, it’s tearing me apart! I just need you both to be safe. Please, Hannah, don’t lose yourself in this darkness. Promise me.” Her voice dropped to a terrified whisper, “Promise you won’t harm yourself. Please.”

A sob finally tore loose from Jennifer. She whirled on Evelyn, wrenching her arm free. “Stop it. Just stop the fake concern!” she yelled, her voice raw. “I’m not yours! Why are you pretending? I don’t want your pity—love.”

Evelyn shook her head, her gaze unwavering and filled with fierce love, “Never,” she stated, each word weighted with conviction. “Not for a single heartbeat did I ever doubt you were mine.”

She took a shaky breath. “Blood or not, Hannah, you are the child who made me a mother. You’re always my first child.”

Chapter 793

Jennifer’s knees buckled. She collapsed to the floor, heaving sobs wracking her body. ‘She truly saw me as her child.’ The realization shattered her remaining defenses. But how was she supposed to go on with her life after all this?

Her career, her dreams, her marriage… all ashes. And now, the final blow: her own birth mother’s repudiation. She was utterly adrift.

“Oh, Hannah…” Evelyn wept, gently patting Jennifer’s back, helping her rise. “Please, my darling girl, you must be strong, I’m begging you,” her voice broke, “I cannot survive seeing another child of mine suffering like this.”

Lucas lay comatose from his overdose. If something happened to Jennifer, she would break down completely.

Jennifer swiped at her tears, drawing a shuddering breath. Her voice, when it came, was frighteningly devoid of emotion. “We’ll talk after the results. I’m returning to Nareigh.”

An exhaustion deeper than sleep settled into her bones—exhaustion with the world, but most of all, with the crushing solitude. Nareigh meant Donald. At this moment, she missed him so much. She wished more than anything that he were by her side right now.

“Let me arrange your flight, Hannah,” Evelyn offered hastily.

“It’s handled,” Jennifer cut her off, her tone final. “I was already planning to leave today. My ticket’s booked. Don’t trouble yourself.” With a decisive tug, she freed her hand and walked away without a backward glance.

Evelyn arrived at the hospital ward straight from the police station. Lucas lay exactly as before—unconscious, pale against the sterile sheets.

“Lucas…” Evelyn’s voice splintered. She collapsed to her knees beside the bed, her arms encircling her son’s still form as gut-wrenching sobs tore through her.

“My fault. I was blind. I didn’t see you, my own boy. Lucas, forgive me. Please!” She buried her face against him, her body shaking with the force of her grief and guilt.

Teresa stood by Evelyn’s side, rubbing her back soothingly. “Mom, please… don’t cry like this,” she murmured, her own eyes swimming. “This isn’t your fault. Peggy did this. She’s the monster who hurt Lucas.”

Evelyn shook her head wildly, consumed by self-loathing. “No. I failed him,” she wailed. “He’s my son. My flesh and blood. And I… I let her destroy him. I’m unforgivable!”

Teresa choked back a sob, tears spilling over. As a mother, she felt Evelyn’s agony viscerally. The thought of her own child suffering like Lucas, the guilt would be an unbearable, suffocating weight.

Evelyn wept until she was hollow, her cries eventually subsiding into ragged, exhausted breaths, her devastation a palpable presence in the room.

Teresa wiped her own tears. “Mom, he will wake up,” she said, injecting as much conviction as she could muster. “But you need to let him breathe. You’re holding him too tight. He can’t rest properly.”

At Teresa’s words, Evelyn’s arms slackened reluctantly, though tears still tracked silently down her cheeks.

Teresa steered her to the sofa, poured a cup of water, and pressed it into Evelyn’s trembling hands. “Here, drink this,” Teresa urged softly. “The doctor said Lucas was out of danger. Waking up takes its own time. We have to be patient.”

Evelyn’s hands trembled violently. Teresa steadied the cup, tilting it carefully so Evelyn could manage a few small sips.

Evelyn pressed a fist to her heart, her voice thick with anguish. “He’s such a good soul. Please, God, bring my boy back to me. Wake him up, please.” Her voice faded into a desperate whisper.