Patrick had fallen into a peaceful slumber as if he had been lulled into a trance by her calming and
soothing scent.
His head no longer ached, and he felt himself drifting away into a world of dreams.
When Gwendolyn turned to look at him, she saw that his eyes were closed, and his breaths were deep
and steady.
She exhaled at the sight. Did he seriously fall asleep? How tired is he?
Realizing how swamped he was at work, she couldn't bear to wake him up despite her rising rage.
She didn't move and allowed Patrick to hug her until the car rolled to a stop before his house.
Upon arrival, the driver turned over his shoulder to ask, “Ms. Ashton, do you need my help to bring Mr.
Lowen into the house?”
I dare not wake him, but I wonder if Ms. Ashton dares to do so.
Gwendolyn snapped out of her reverie and felt a flash of irritation. Hence, she pried his hands from her
waist and hopped out of the car.
“You can bring him upstairs. I'm going home now.”
With that, she marched away without looking back. The driver glanced at Patrick sleeping soundly in
the backseat with a grimace.
Patrick was in a deep slumber as the sedative effects of the painkillers he had taken earlier gradually
took hold.
When Gwendolyn arrived home, Camille was wide awake and gulping down a glass of water. She
rushed toward Gwendolyn, her eyes widening in shock when she saw the bandage around
Gwendolyn's head.
“Gwen, did you get involved in a fight?” she demanded.
Look at the injury on her head. Did she fight again? A few years ago, she had gotten herself into a bit of
trouble after she resorted to violence and had to pay a hefty amount of money as a form of
compensation. Has she forgotten her lesson and begun fighting again?
Gwendolyn slowly raised her hand to touch her head. “I didn't fight,” she said softly. “I just fell. It's
nothing serious, so don't worry about it. Go to bed and get some rest. I'm going to go upstairs now.”
Camille remained concerned. “Remember not to get your wound wet. Be careful when you go to bed.
When you head out, you must wear a cap. Otherwise, your wound may worsen, which can lead to
frequent headaches.”
Gwendolyn had grown up without the guidance and care of a mother, and so when she heard Camille
lecturing her in a motherly fashion, she couldn't help but crack a smile.
“Got it.”
The following morning, Gwendolyn was abruptly woken from her slumber by a sharp pain. After hearing
about her injury, Juliette ran to her bedroom to poke her head.
The little girl happened to poke her wound and woke her up rudely.
Justin and Julian tried to stop her, but it was too late. They furrowed their brows, feeling bad for their
mother.
Gwendolyn's face was twisted in agony. “Juliette, that hurts.”
Hearing that, Juliette retracted her finger and flashed a sweet smile.
“Oh! Mommy, you weren't faking it. Is there really a hole in your head?”
Gwendolyn shut her eyes wordlessly. She refuses to believe that I got hurt for real, huh?
Justin waved her phone. “Mommy, a lady called and said your flight is at eleven today. She reminded
you to be at the airport earlier than that.”
Gwendolyn sat up in bed as she belatedly remembered that she was supposed to receive an award
tomorrow.
But I look a little ugly now!
Julian seemed to know exactly what was on her mind since he flashed her a wickedly attractive grin.
“Mommy, you can wear a headpiece. That way, you'll still look pretty!” he suggested.
Juliette nodded profusely. “Yes. By wearing a headpiece, your ugly bandage won't be visible anymore.”
Gwendolyn shrugged. “Sure, I'll do that. Thanks for the suggestion.”
She stroked their cheeks before saying, “Go have breakfast. It's time to go to school.”
Since the children now resided a distance from their school, they were obliged to take the school bus
which conveniently passed by their house.
Justin glanced at his watch. “Julian, Juliette, we need to hurry or risk missing the school bus.”
Juliette caressed Gwendolyn's cheek. “Mommy, remember to bring us a gift when you come back!”
Gwendolyn chuckled. “Of course!”
At that moment, Tiffany phoned once more. She quickly answered the call.
“Tiffany.”
“Gwen, I'm going to bring you to meet someone in Frosa. Have you left home yet?”
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