Together Apart: Her White Moonlight Has Returned Too-Chapter 7: I Told You to Get Out of the Car

Looking at her pale little face, Winston Valentine cursed under his breath, then lifted her horizontally into his arms.

Vera Yves saw his tense expression, and finally, the tears she was holding back fell as she buried her head into his chest.

Mark Yves had been waiting for a car at the door, and when he turned around, he saw Winston Valentine carrying Vera out. He sobered up significantly, "What’s wrong with my sister?"

Winston didn’t stop walking, just cast him a cold glance, "You’re actually here too?"

Mark felt a pang of guilt, quickly pushed away the woman in his arms, and anxiously followed them, all while grumbling internally. What kind of look was that? It wasn’t because you didn’t give the project to the Yves Family. Otherwise, would my sister have needed to drink with those old men?

The driver had already opened the car door, and Winston directly placed Vera inside.

Mark got into the front passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt. Winston’s expression darkened, while Vera curled up in his arms like a little cat, trembling all over from the pain.

Winston instructed the driver to start the car, and then covered her with his jacket.

The jacket carried the warmth of his body and a familiar scent. Vera couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into his embrace.

Noticing her movement, Winston mockingly said, "Now you know what it feels like to be in pain?"

Vera looked up at him, her face devoid of color, her hair damp over her forehead. She whispered softly, "It hurts."

Seeing her misty eyes, Winston felt inexplicably irritated, held her head in place against his chest, and chided coldly, "You have no idea about the limits of the world."

Though his grip was far from gentle, listening to his strong heartbeat made the pain seem less intense.

The car sped through the night. Vera, due to the pain, drifted between sleep and wakefulness, while Winston leaned back, eyes closed. The flickering light on his stern profile hinted at exhaustion.

A sudden ringtone interrupted the silence in the car.

Winston rubbed his eye corners and answered the call.

From the phone, a woman’s sobs faintly emerged. Before she could even look up, Winston had already sat up straight, "Stop the car!"

The driver hurriedly pulled over.

Mark was anxious, "Why are you stopping for no reason? Can’t you see my sister is almost in unbearable pain?"

"You take your sister and get off; take a cab to the hospital." Winston instructed coldly.

Vera’s entire body stiffened; the surrounding air seemed to chill instantly.

Mark turned his head, looking at him incredulously, "Winston Valentine, are you crazy? Your wife is in excruciating pain, and you want her to take a cab to the hospital? At this hour past midnight, you’d be lucky to catch a cab in half an hour!"

Winston looked at him coldly, "Get out."

Mark was angry enough to curse, stubbornly refusing to move.

Vera forced herself to sit up, the coat slipping off her shoulders. She glanced at Mark, her voice weak and pale, "Get out."

"Vera!"

Vera gritted her teeth, "I told you to get out."

Mark gave her a deep look, then reluctantly got out of the car.

Vera took a deep breath, enduring the pain as she opened the car door. As she stepped out, she seemed fragile enough to be blown away by the wind at any moment.

"Bang!" The car door closed.

The black car quickly merged into traffic without a moment’s hesitation.

Vera’s legs gave way, as if she had suddenly lost all strength.

Mark hurriedly supported her, "Vera, have you lost your mind? That call must have been from that Cecilia Vaughn. Why are you pretending to be so magnanimous? If you hadn’t gotten out of the car today, I don’t believe he would have thrown you out!"

Vera held onto his arm, bitterly thinking that if she really refused to get out, Winston Valentine would indeed throw her out. Why bother bringing it upon herself?

Mark looked at her in exasperation, "You’re the only wife I’ve seen like this! Haven’t you heard of crying, making a fuss, and threatening to hang yourself? If you don’t fight, men will just think you’re foolish and take advantage of you!"

A cold wind blew through, and Vera trembled all over as if the warmth from the car had never existed.

Mark, while swearing, hailed a cab, finally managing to catch one after over ten minutes.

At the hospital, the diagnosis was acute gastroenteritis.

One IV drip later, some color finally returned to Vera’s face.

Seeing she was no longer in pain, Mark lounged on the sofa, still criticizing her, "We may be twins, but why aren’t you even half as smart as me?"

Vera turned away, not wanting to engage with him. Remembering something, she warned, "Don’t tell Mom about this."

Mark snorted, "Do you think you need to say it? I want her to live a few more years!"

Vera looked at the silent phone, lost in thought. Winston Valentine hadn’t even called once.

Early next morning, the messages in the WeChat group kept dinging nonstop.

Vera picked up her phone, opened WeChat, and scrolled up through the messages.

"Whoa, did Cecilia Vaughn really commit suicide?"

"Right in her own apartment, lying on nine hundred and ninety-nine roses that Winston Valentine gave her, she slit her wrists!"

"How do you know?"

"Someone caught Winston Valentine carrying her to the hospital emergency room, his clothes stained with blood!"

Perhaps fearing their words lacked conviction, the person sent a photo as evidence.

In the photo, Winston was wearing just a white shirt, holding Cecilia, and though he was walking so quickly that the image was blurred, his side profile still showed obvious urgency.

So this is what he looks like when he’s worried.

No wonder he didn’t hesitate to leave her behind.

Mark was also in the group, clearly seeing the same news, "Damn, that Cecilia Vaughn is really ruthless with herself! Mom was right; from one look, you can tell she’s no pushover. She had bad intentions the moment she returned to the country!"

Whatever Cecilia’s intentions were, what mattered was Winston Valentine’s attitude.

Although she never expected to have an intimate relationship with him, if he was cheating, she couldn’t tolerate it either.

Mark, seeing her pale little face, snatched her phone away, "I’m calling Winston Valentine right now to make him come here!"

Vera’s expression turned stern, "Give me the phone!"

"You’re his wife. You’re in the hospital right now. Shouldn’t he be with you? Obviously, he’s with that Cecilia Vaughn now!" Mark righteously argued, pulling up Winston Valentine’s number to dial.

"If you dare call him, don’t ever consider me your sister again!"

"I’ve been here since last night, for whose sake?" Mark, seeing her stony face and silent demeanor, gritted his teeth in frustration, hung up the call, and tossed the phone aside, "To hell with you!"

Mark left in a huff.

Vera, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief. Calling wouldn’t make Winston Valentine come, and she didn’t want Mark to end up as embarrassed as she was.

Near noon, Mark returned with a sulky expression, carrying food. He tossed Vera a portion of plain congee and filled the table with various dishes for himself, devouring them with gusto.

Watching him eat with such relish, the congee in Vera’s hand felt even more tasteless, prompting her to curse him, "Childish!"

Five days passed without a glimpse of Winston Valentine.

On the day of discharge, Mark went to handle the paperwork, while Vera waited in the lobby, spotting a group of people from a distance.