Chapter 1195

Upon returning to her room, Heather began coughing violently. The severity of the fit was alarming; she seemed unable to stop.

Chump stood beside her, unsure what to do. He finally fetched a glass of water. Returning, he saw her spitting up more blood.

Afterwards, Heather appeared slightly improved. With Chump's support, she sat on the bed, leaning against the frame. She took the water, her face pale. "Ms. Riggs..." Chump's worry was palpable.

He'd initially assumed she was managing, but that was clearly untrue.

"I didn't expect she'd have the nerve," Heather breathed, gazing at the ceiling, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I let my guard down over the years; I was never wary of her."

Heather couldn't articulate her feelings. She'd always despised Hannah, her twin and younger sister, never considering her a threat. She'd always been the favored child, the one chosen by their parents; Hannah, in her estimation, was no competition.

She'd expected gratitude from Hannah; after all, Heather believed Hannah's very existence depended on her. Therefore, she felt Hannah should remain indebted, regardless of her actions.

She'd known of Hannah's dissatisfaction lately, but dismissed it. What could a weak, useless girl do? She never anticipated Hannah's audacity in poisoning her.

She had no idea how Hannah obtained the poison or hired assassins. She'd nearly succumbed.

Had Chump not risked his life to protect her, or had she lacked her past connections, Hannah might have succeeded.

Seeing her distress, Chump snarled, "I'm going to kill her!"

"Don't be rash," Heather said weakly. "I still have reasons to keep her alive."

"But..."

"There's something more important I need you to do," Heather closed her eyes. Opening them again, a spark ignited within. After a moment's hesitation, Chump leaned in as she whispered instructions.

"This..."

"Get it done!" Heather gestured, seemingly drained. She lay sideways, silent.

Though worried, Chump obeyed, immediately undertaking his task.

Heather shifted, grabbing the blanket—still faintly scented with Hannah's perfume. A frown creased her face; she tossed it to the floor. No one else would lie on her bed.

Margaret had recovered from her crisis, though her age and recent trauma left her weak. She'd lost considerable weight, looking drastically different from just days before. It was hard to believe it was the same woman.

Lily was saddened by Margaret's appearance, reminded of her recently deceased grandfather. Their helplessness in the face of age was evident. "Why are you eating so little?" Alexander asked, noticing her untouched plate. "Don't you like it?"

Lily shook her head. "I'm full."