Chapter 6 This Doesn't Seem Like Her

Hearing Abigail's questioning, Sandra's face grew paler. Her body trembled non-stop before she collapsed to the floor.

"Sandra? Sandra!" Melinda shoved Abigail aside and pulled Sandra tightly into her arms.

Sandra didn't respond at all. Her fingers still clutched the bedsheets.

Harold immediately pressed the call button at the bedside.

The doctor arrived quickly and examined Sandra on the spot.

"She experienced severe emotional distress, which triggered a stress-induced coma," the doctor said, looking at the Rodriguez family. "Please don't continue to upset the patient."

Harold nodded. "Everyone out. Don't disturb Sandra's rest."

People filed out of the hospital room one by one. Abigail walked out last, her expression blank.

Ryan turned to look at her. His eyes fell on her injured hand, and he felt a tightness in his chest.

"Abigail, go get your wound treated first." He walked to her side, his tone gentle.

The next moment, a man rushed over and knocked Abigail to the ground.

It was Ethan. He didn't even glance at her on the floor and walked straight into the hospital room. "Doctor, how is Sandra now?"

"Ethan, you knocked into Abigail!" Ryan quickly helped her up.

Only then did Ethan turn around. His eyes swept over Abigail's wound, a flash of disgust crossing his face, before he quickly switched to an anxious expression. "Abigail, sorry. I was so worried about the situation in the room that I didn't notice you."

Abigail sneered inwardly.

When he came through the door, he was clearly only calling out Sandra's name.

She lifted her head, wearing just the right amount of hurt. "I'm fine. Sandra's condition is more important. The doctor said she can't be upset anymore."

Ethan clenched his fists, suppressing his inner anxiety. "Then you should go back and change into dry clothes so you don't catch cold. I'll stay here and watch over things."

He just wanted the Rodriguez family to leave as soon as possible. He had to figure out why Sandra hadn't followed the original plan.

Abigail didn't expose his thoughts and nodded gently. "Thanks for doing this."

Seeing that she was still obedient and compliant, Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. In his eyes, Abigail only had looks—she was just someone easy to manipulate.

Finnian watched Ethan walk into the hospital room and frowned slightly. "Ryan, Jason, let's go back. The banquet isn't over yet."

He looked at Abigail again. "Can you handle your wound yourself?"

Abigail nodded slightly.

Finnian was a bit surprised. She didn't cry or complain, completely different from her usual self. But given what had happened during the day, he didn't think much of it. He just assumed she had a casual personality and that a small injury wasn't worth fussing over.

There were still many guests at the estate, and Harold and Melinda also needed to go back and socialize. No one bothered to check on Abigail's condition anymore.

Abigail didn't treat her wound and returned to her residence alone. Facing the servants' strange looks, she ignored them completely, went straight upstairs, and walked into her bedroom bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her disheveled reflection.

Wet, messy hair stuck to her cheeks. Her face was deathly pale, her lips cracked, her eyes slightly red. The large bruises on her neck were particularly striking under the light.

She looked down at the wound on her right hand between her thumb and index finger. The blood had dried, and under the lifted scab, fresh pink flesh was visible.

Abigail reached out with her fingernail and peeled off the newly formed scab again. Drop after drop of fresh blood fell onto the white sink.

Sharp pain spread from her arm through her entire body, slowly calming her agitated emotions and forcibly suppressing the violent rage churning inside her.

She took a deep breath, looking at her reflection in the mirror—covered in wounds, hands stained with blood. The wound continued to seep blood, and she didn't bandage it at all.

After showering, Abigail changed into clean pajamas and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her injured right hand for a long time.

Then there was a knock at the door. It was Jason. "Abigail, it's me."

Abigail composed herself and got up to open the door.

Jason was holding several bags, looking like he'd just come back from the mall.

He caught sight of the bruises on Abigail's body and awkwardly looked away. "I brought you some things."

Abigail glanced at the bags. Inside were medicine, luxury gift boxes, and dessert containers. She didn't say anything and stepped aside to let him through.

Jason walked into the room and placed the items on the table. "About what happened in the hospital room today, I apologize. I shouldn't have dragged you in there to question you without getting the facts straight."

His eyes fell on her wound, his voice somewhat hoarse. "Is your hand okay?"

"It's fine." Abigail put her hand behind her back.

Jason was silent for a moment, then brought up the past. "Do you remember? You actually knew how to swim when you were little."

Abigail's body stiffened slightly.

"When you were five, I secretly took you to the beach." Jason licked his dry lips. "Later, you were almost swept away by the waves. After that, you never dared to go in the water again."

He clenched his fists, looking guilty. "I've always felt bad about that."

Abigail's expression didn't change.

If this were her past life, hearing these words would have touched her heart, making her think Jason still remembered the past. But now, she only found it incredibly ironic.

If he truly felt guilty, why did he watch her suffer and die miserably in her previous life? He clearly knew everything but stood by and did nothing. His belated apology meant nothing.

"Jason," Abigail lowered her head, looking dejected, "it's all in the past. Don't worry about it."

She deliberately avoided saying she forgave him, but Jason mistook it for her having let it go. In his mind, Abigail had always been generous and wouldn't hold past events against family.

"The director of Family Stardust, Aaron Hill, was also at the estate today." Jason took out an invitation. "He saw you jump into the water to save someone and was very moved. He praised the deep bond between you sisters and wants to invite you both to participate in the show."

Abigail took the invitation. A line of text was printed on it: [The Rodriguez family is cordially invited to participate in the recording of Family Stardust Season 3.]

Family Stardust.

She clearly remembered that not long ago, she and Sandra had also participated in a similar variety show.

Sandra was good at performing emotions in front of the camera, always able to cry at the right moment, playing the role of a disadvantaged heiress who was envied and neglected by her family.

The audience sympathized, the media reported extensively, and various business opportunities came flooding in. In a short time, Sandra became a beloved public figure.

And Abigail herself had been portrayed by the show as a jealous, mean-spirited, narrow-minded young lady, facing three straight months of online criticism.

Family Stardust was currently the hottest variety show.

She knew the Rodriguez family would never miss the chance to make their family members famous. And she wouldn't miss this opportunity either.

Abigail gripped the invitation tightly. "I'm willing to participate."

Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the wound between her thumb and finger. The sharp pain kept her constantly alert.

In her past life, Sandra had climbed up step by step by stepping on her. In this life, she would tear off Sandra's carefully crafted mask in front of all the viewers with her own hands.