But then the memory of Henry's rejection flashed in her mind...

She abruptly pulled her hand away from Timothy's grasp.

Timothy's expression darkened, his voice icy. "You need to stop this, Jessica. Henry is sick, he's calling for his mom—are you just going to abandon your own son?"

Jessica stood motionless, unmoved.

Timothy raised a trembling finger at her, frustration etched on his face, but in the end, his hand dropped helplessly to his side.

He picked up his phone and started a video call with Mabel.

Mabel answered, the camera pointed right at Henry.

She was gently wiping Henry's forehead with a warm towel as he lay there, eyes squeezed shut in discomfort, his weak little voice calling out, "Mommy... Mommy..."

Jessica heard Henry's soft, desperate plea and her hands clenched into fists.

"Sir, I've already called an ambulance. You and your wife should hurry back," Mabel said.

"Mommy..."

Jessica nearly broke down in tears. She didn't have to see him to know just how miserable Henry was feeling right now.

Toddlers have such fragile immune systems—before the age of three, they always seem to catch fevers.

time Henry got sick, Jessica would stay by his side day and night, tending to him without

she'd brought into this world, raised from a tiny, helpless bundle

his

son.

softened,

pulled fresh clothes from her suitcase, changed, and hurried out the

call and followed after

at The Gilded Whisper

Henry's room, but

Henry, gently rocking him. "Don't cry, Henry. The ambulance will be here any

anymore. Miss Sheila, can you be my

went ghostly pale, even her lips losing

back two steps,

an ambulance siren echoed up

hurried inside, heading

flooding her

Henry in her

forward, took Henry from her arms, and strode out

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