Chapter 222: Bonnie, Apologize

Chapter 222: Chapter 222: Bonnie, Apologize

The bedroom door was pushed open gently from the outside.

Lost in her sorrow and silently weeping, Bella Thorne didn’t notice a thing until a soft female voice slowly sounded from above.

"Miss Thorne, you’re finally awake. Tyson has been so worried about you."

Bella Thorne’s head snapped up. In the twilight glow filtering through the window, she saw who it was and hastily wiped the tears from her face.

"What are you doing here?"

She had been lucky to escape the rip current with her life, but she would never forget that in the moment she was in mortal danger, it was this woman who had clung to her husband, preventing him from diving into the sea to save her.

’It wasn’t really about that, though. Whether Tristan Forrester chose to save her or not was his decision. After all, self-preservation is the first instinct in the face of danger. But having Justine Hughes interfere, swaying Tyson’s decision... that’s what truly bothered her.’

"Miss Thorne, I’ve been worried sick about you. I just had to come up and see how you were doing."

Justine Hughes held out the bowl of warm soup she was carrying. "I made some soup," she said gently. "You should have some. It’ll help you get your strength back."

"No, thank you. I’m not hungry."

’She was utterly exhausted, with no appetite and even less patience to entertain anyone.’

"Just have a little. It’ll help you recover faster. Or... shall I feed you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Justine Hughes sat down on the edge of the bed. She stirred the soup with the porcelain spoon, then scooped some up and brought it to Bella’s lips.

A wave of irritation washed over Bella Thorne, and she instinctively raised a hand to bat the spoon away.

"I said I’m not hungry! Don’t you understand?"

"Ah—!"

Justine Hughes cried out. The porcelain bowl of soup instantly tipped over, and the scalding liquid spilled all over her fair forearm, instantly searing a large, glaring Crimson Trace onto her skin. Her face went deathly pale.

Bella Thorne froze, just about to explain herself, when the bedroom door was pushed open again.

"What’s going on?"

The low, icy voice belonged to Tristan Forrester, whose tall, imposing figure strode into the room.

His gaze landed on the red burn on Justine Hughes’s arm.

Justine Hughes hastily pulled her sleeve down to hide the burn, then bent over to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl from the carpet.

Tristan Forrester stepped forward and caught her by the wrist. "Don’t. I’ll have the staff come clean it up."

Justine Hughes froze. She lowered her gaze, the corners of her eyes turning red. "It’s all my fault. I can’t even take care of someone properly. Miss Thorne just woke up; it’s only natural for her to be emotionally unstable and lose her temper."

"I told you I wasn’t hungry, and I never asked you to take care of me," Bella Thorne retorted, her brow furrowed and her heart filled with indignation. She hadn’t used much force at all; she never imagined it would knock the bowl over.

’She really didn’t do it on purpose!’

"Miss Thorne is right. I overstepped," Justine Hughes said with a bitter smile, her voice laced with restrained sorrow. "I was just so worried about your health that I came to visit on a whim. I never thought I would upset you..."

Tristan Forrester looked down at Bella Thorne, his tone cold and allowing no argument.

"Bonnie, apologize."

Bella Thorne’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?"

"Regardless, she was injured because of you. An apology is basic courtesy."

"I did nothing wrong. I will not apologize."

’To hell with courtesy.’

’Who knows if she’s the one who couldn’t hold the bowl steady?’

’Tristan couldn’t even tell right from wrong, demanding an apology from her right off the bat. Well, she wasn’t going to give him one!’

A suffocating ache spread through her chest.

Their eyes met, locked in a stalemate.

Bella Thorne bit her lip, her gaze stubborn and unyielding. Perhaps from having swallowed seawater and caught a chill, an unnatural flush crept up her cheeks. Her chest felt tight, her nose tingled, and her eyes instantly reddened.

Justine Hughes lowered her eyes and interjected softly, "Forget it. There’s no need to apologize. Miss Thorne did nothing wrong; it was all my fault. Please don’t argue because of me. I’ll just go."

With that, she slowly left the room.

Tristan Forrester’s gaze returned to Bella Thorne. Seeing the unnatural flush on her cheeks, he reached out to touch her forehead.

Bella Thorne felt dizzy and weak. She tried to pull away, but couldn’t.

"You have a fever."

Even after a hot bath and ginger tea to ward off the chill, the seawater she’d inhaled had still caused an infection. Miss Grayson had warned them earlier that a fever would be a normal reaction.

"Don’t touch me," Bella Thorne said, turning her head and pushing his hand away.

"What’s this tantrum about?" Tristan Forrester’s face darkened, a hint of anger in his eyes.

Bella Thorne’s nose stung. Choking back a sob, she turned her face away. "Are you disappointed that I didn’t die?"

"What are you talking about?" Tristan Forrester’s brows knitted together. ’Her outburst seemed to come from nowhere. If he had wanted something to happen to her, why would he have risked his own life to save her from the ocean just moments ago?’

"Isn’t it true? You know Grandpa would never agree to a divorce, which means you can’t give the woman you love her rightful place. If I were gone, you could get back together with her without a second thought..." Bella Thorne’s voice was thick and nasal from crying. "Tristan Forrester, do you hate me that much?"

’For the past two years, she had done everything she could to please him, to change herself, to become the woman she thought he wanted. But it wasn’t until Justine Hughes returned that she understood. It wasn’t that he was a cold person by nature; it was just that his warmth, his patience, and his affection were never meant for her.’

’So what did that make her, this Mrs. Forrester in name only?’

"I don’t hate you," Tristan Forrester said, his heart softening as he looked at her tear-reddened eyes. He reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. "You’re not well. You should rest. Don’t overthink things. What was between her and me is long in the past."

Bella Thorne slapped his hand away and rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. "You’re a liar," she said, her voice muffled. "I don’t want to talk to you."

Tristan Forrester was never good at comforting people. He simply said in a low voice, "I’ll get you some medicine for the fever. Is there anything you want to eat? I’ll have someone make it."

"I don’t want it! Just go! I don’t need your concern!"

The door clicked shut, and the bedroom fell into a dead silence.

Buried under the covers, Bella Thorne cried silent tears of indignation.

’She suddenly felt so pathetic. All she ever did when things went wrong was cry. Just like when her parents died. Back then, all she could do was cry, utterly helpless.’

...

Downstairs in the living room, Vesper Grayson was lounging on the sofa. She watched Justine Hughes slowly descend the stairs, her gaze landing on the red burn on Justine’s forearm. Vesper’s brow furrowed slightly.

"Miss Hughes, what happened?"

’She remembered Justine Hughes taking a bowl of soup upstairs to see Bella Thorne just a few moments ago. To get burned this badly in such a short time was surprising.’

Justine Hughes forced a faint smile. "I was just careless. I’ll go take care of it."

With that, she walked quickly toward the kitchen.

Soon, the sound of a running faucet could be heard.

Vesper Grayson got up and walked over. She saw Justine Hughes rinsing her arm under cold water. Small blisters were already forming on her smooth skin; the burn was clearly not minor.

"How did you get burned so badly?"

"It’s fine, it’s nothing serious." Justine Hughes bit her lip, forcing a smile.

"A burn is no small matter," Vesper Grayson said, her tone level. It was merely a doctor’s instinct to give advice. "Keep running it under cold water for a full twenty minutes. And whatever you do, don’t pop the blisters. They’ll get infected easily and leave a scar. You should be more careful in the future."

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Grayson."

"Is Bonnie awake?"

"Yes, but she’s still very weak. Tyson is upstairs with her."

Vesper Grayson raised an eyebrow. Just as she was about to speak, Shiloh Sloan strode over.

"Vesper, come with me. I need your help with something."

He didn’t wait for a response, simply grabbing her and pulling her outside.

Once they were outside the villa, Vesper Grayson watched as Shiloh Sloan, who had left her standing to the side, began to leisurely fiddle with some barbecue spices. She was utterly confused.

"Didn’t you say you needed my help with something?"

Shiloh Sloan snorted. "There’s nothing. I just didn’t want to see you standing there with her, so I made up an excuse."

A smile played on Vesper Grayson’s lips. "What? Did she do something to offend you?"