Married To My Ex's Brother, Reborn Miraculously-Chapter 221: A golden goose

Patricia’s smile faltered for a split second as the call abruptly ended, but she recovered quickly. Without missing a beat, she continued speaking into the dead line.

"Yes, I understand. He should stay a little longer. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him. Call me when you are back."

She shoved the phone inside her bag and turned to Paule, only to find him watching her silently, suspicion clouding his tired eyes.

"She said no," Patricia announced. "You are to stay here another week and continue therapy."

Paule sighed, frustration pressing down on him. His fingers clenched around the bedsheet. "Why did you ask her for money?"

Patricia’s face twisted into a frown. "What’s wrong with that?" she snapped. "She is married to a billionaire. She is not hurting for cash. Besides, we took her in, gave her a home, food, and education. The least she can do is take care of her foster parents now."

Paule grimaced and turned away, his back facing her. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to hear it.

But Patricia wasn’t finished.

She opened her mouth again, but her phone buzzed. A notification lit up the screen. She checked it, and her eyes lit up with greedy excitement.

"One hundred thousand..." she whispered, a grin spreading across her face. "Anne really is my golden goose. I’ll have to treat her better from now on."

She turned toward her husband.

"Paule," she said with a new burst of cheerfulness. "What do you think about inviting Anne and her husband to dinner once they return? They haven’t visited us since the marriage."

Paule shifted slightly and gave a quiet nod, not saying a word.

"That’s wonderful," Patricia beamed. She reached for the blanket and tucked it around him, fussing with exaggerated care. "Now rest up. You’ll need your strength to host our dear guests."

Outside the ward...

Margaret yanked her hand free from Nathan’s grip, her face tight with frustration. "Why did you lie to them?" she demanded. "That man can barely speak, but we could have spoken to that woman, asked about Anne."

"Mommy, please..." Nathan took her arm again and guided her down the hallway, away from the ward door. His eyes darted nervously behind them, afraid Patricia might overhear.

Margaret pulled away, scowling. "What’s wrong with you, Nathan?" she hissed. "You are acting strange."

"She can’t be trusted," Nathan said through clenched teeth. "That woman, Patricia, and her daughter, Lorie—they mistreated her, humiliated her, abused her. They never treated her like family."

Margaret stared at him, stunned. "What are you saying?"

"I didn’t want to bring Anne up in front of Patricia."

"But why hide it at all?" Margaret argued, shaking her head. "What’s the point? They’ll find out eventually once Paule speaks to Anne. Why not just tell them now?"

"Because it’s not confirmed yet," Nathan reminded her. "We don’t know for sure if she is Raya. Not until we do the DNA test. Until then, we need to be careful."

But Margaret’s patience was wearing thin. "I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited twenty years already. I need to see her. I want the truth. I want that test to be done as soon as possible."

Nathan exhaled, trying to calm her. "And you’ll get it. I promise. But let’s not rush. She is still out of town, on her honeymoon. Once she is back, I’ll find a way to speak to her. We’ll do the paternity test then."

Margaret looked away, her eyes misted with desperation.

Nathan placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Just a little longer, a little more patience."

Margaret stood in silence for a moment, her emotions churning. She had waited for over twenty years, endured every day with the ache of not knowing if her daughter was still alive. The thought of waiting any longer felt unbearable.

An idea sparked in her mind.

"What if we speak to the old man from the Beaumont family?" she suggested, her eyes lighting with hope. "He might understand what I’m going through... maybe even help us."

Nathan considered it. "We can do that," he said thoughtfully. "Why didn’t I think of it earlier?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "If it turns out Anne really is Raya, Dad’s dream of strengthening the ties with the Beaumonts could finally come true. She has already married into their family."

This initiative might mend the rift between the two families.

"Let’s go to the Granet manor. We’ll talk to Dad."

But at the mention of Oliver, Margaret stiffened. Her expression changed as she turned away slightly, avoiding Nathan’s eyes.

"I’m not going there," she said firmly.

It had been twenty years. They hadn’t spoken once since the divorce. He had never come to see me. She had never called him. There was nothing between them anymore, though Oliver kept a good relationship with Nathan.

Nathan’s face fell. "We are already here in the city. And right now, we need him."

Margaret shook her head. "If you want to see him, go ahead," she said, her tone final. "But don’t force me. Take me to the hotel."

She turned and walked off.

Nathan stood there a moment, shoulders sagging with helplessness, then sighed and followed after her in silence.

~~~~~~~~~

Anne tossed her phone aside after transferring the money, frustration tightening her chest. She sank back into the bed, hoping for rest, but her head throbbed relentlessly, like a hammer striking her skull.

The sound of the door creaking open broke through the quiet, followed by Augustine’s voice.

"Are you asleep?"

"No," she murmured. "I can’t sleep. My head hurts."

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching to rest against her forehead. Her skin was still warm.

The fever had not subsided yet.

"I’ve already called the doctor," he said. "He is on his way."

Anne reached for his hand and guided it to her cheek. "I’m sorry. I didn’t want to get sick. I ruined our honeymoon."

"Don’t talk nonsense," Augustine scolded her gently. "You didn’t ruin anything. Getting sick isn’t your fault."

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "We can still enjoy our honeymoon at home. But right now, you need to rest. That’s all that matters."

Anne gave him a small, tired smile and nodded.

A knock echoed at the door.

"Sir," Johnson called from outside. "The doctor has arrived."

"Bring him in."

"Right away," Johnson replied, footsteps retreating.

Moments later, the doctor stepped into the room. Augustine stood, offering a brief nod, while Anne remained still.

The doctor was around Augustine’s age, with a kind face and an easy smile.

"Hello, Augustine," he greeted warmly. "It’s been a while. How have you been?"

"I’m good, Ronan," Augustine replied, stepping aside. "This is my wife, Anne. She is running a fever. Can you take a look?"

Ronan offered Anne a gentle smile as he walked over. "Hello, Anne. Let me guess—too much time in the water?"