Chapter 2: Taking Her Side

Helen's POV

I don't know how I made it back to my room.

I stood on the balcony in the cold wind, watching the light in my daughter's room go dark, then watching Kael take Ivy's call and leave the house in a hurry.

He had gone to be with the woman he loved.

If not for our daughter, I suspected he wouldn't want to spend a single minute under the same roof as me.

I should leave too.

This marriage — it had to end.

Letting go of a man who doesn't love me would be easy enough.

But letting go of the daughter I brought into this world with my own life…

I clutched the collar of my shirt so tightly my knuckles whitened, and I couldn't breathe…

It was then that the bedroom door was flung open in a panic.

Thelma, our housekeeper, came rushing in. "Ma'am, something's wrong — Miss Roxi is feeling very ill. Her stomach, it's in terrible pain."

"How did this happen?"

I ran to my daughter's room without another word.

Roxi's face was drained of all color. She was writhing across the bed, drenched in sweat, too weak even to speak above a whisper. It was only when I got close enough that I heard what she was saying — she was calling for me. Mama. Over and over, mama.

I had her lie flat and ran through her symptoms quickly. Acute gastric dilation. She needed a nasogastric tube, and there was no way to do that at home. We had to get to the hospital.

"Thelma, have the driver bring the car around immediately. We're going now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Thelma hurried off to arrange it while I changed Roxi's clothes as fast as I could, grabbed the documents we'd need, and carried her out the door.

Thelma climbed into the car beside us. "Ma'am," she said carefully, "the young miss looks quite serious. Shouldn't we call the mister and let him know?"

"No."

Kael adored his daughter — that much was never in question. But if I was the one calling, the odds were he wouldn't pick up. And every minute we spent waiting was a minute taken away from Roxi's treatment. As long as we got to the hospital quickly, she would be all right.

"Mama… mama…"

Roxi had already begun to run a low fever. She was drifting in and out of clarity, her small fingers locked around one of mine with surprising strength. "It hurts, it hurts, mama, it hurts so much…"

Watching her face contort in pain was like a blade turning slowly inside my chest. I lifted her onto my lap, held down her flailing arms, and kept my voice as steady as I could. "Baby, be still. Don't move around — just hold on a little longer. We're almost there, sweetheart…"

I kept talking to her, softly and without stopping, and gradually she quieted.

But when we reached the hospital and the nurses moved to insert the nasogastric tube, she fought them. She screamed and twisted and cried until her voice went hoarse, and I had to hold her hands down and let it happen, listening to every sound she made while something inside me came apart piece by piece. Once the accumulated food and gas had finally been cleared from her stomach, the worst of the pain subsided. The doctor started her on an IV drip — fluids, electrolytes — and slowly, exhaustedly, Roxi fell asleep.

I allowed myself to breathe again. Then I thought to ask: "What did she eat today? How did it get this far?"

Thelma hesitated before answering. "The young miss had dinner out with the mister and Miss Ivy. She's been in D country for over a month, so I suppose she wasn't used to the food there. When she got back, she ate too much, too fast. And from what she told me, she also had cold ice cream during the meal, and several small cakes on top of that."

I felt my hand close into a fist before I'd even registered the anger.

I had never allowed Roxi to mix cold and hot foods, or to overeat, or to have sweets without limit. Kael knew all of this. He had always known. But Ivy had been trying to win Roxi over, and so she gave the child whatever she wanted — and Kael had simply stood there and let her do it.

The fury peaked so quickly it crossed into something almost like dark amusement. Of course. Of course Roxi had come to resent me, the mother who set limits, when there was someone else always ready to give her everything I withheld. In the end, I wasn't entirely without blame for how things had become between us.

I stayed through the night without sleeping, watching over her until her condition stabilized and the tightness in her abdomen finally eased. In the morning, I left Thelma to sit with her, went home, and made a pot of plain vegetable congee — light, easy on the stomach — then drove straight back to the hospital.

I was almost at the VIP ward when I noticed Thelma pacing outside the door to Roxi's room.

I quickened my step. "Why are you out here? What's happened to Roxi?"

Thelma opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to get anything out.

I turned and pushed the door open myself.

The room was full of laughter.

Roxi was sitting up in bed, propped against her pillows, looking far better than she had a few hours ago. Ivy was perched on the edge of the mattress, saying something that made Roxi giggle. Kael sat nearby, relaxed, his expression soft and unhurried as he watched the two of them together.

Then Roxi pressed a hand to her stomach with an exaggerated pout. "Ivy, did you bring me something to eat? I'm hungry."

"What does Roxi want?" Ivy asked, her smile warm and indulgent.

"A little cake."

Ivy's smile deepened. She reached out and tapped Roxi lightly on the nose. "You greedy little thing." Then she reached into her bag and produced a beautifully packaged pastry box, lifted the lid, and revealed a small golden cake layered in thick cream — exactly the kind Roxi loved.

Roxi's eyes lit up. "Ivy is the best. She always knows I love strawberry cake."

I watched Ivy scoop up a spoonful and bring it toward Roxi's lips, and every rational thought I had collapsed into a single, white-hot impulse.

Roxi had been to the edge and back in the span of one night. Her gastric lining was severely damaged. She was supposed to fast for at least twenty-four hours — no sweets, no cream, nothing rich or heavy. One bite of that cake could tear open what had barely begun to heal and send her right back into crisis.

I crossed the room in three steps and knocked the spoon from Ivy's hand an instant before it reached Roxi's mouth.

The cake hit the floor in a smear of red strawberry and white cream. The room went completely silent.

Kael was the first to recover. He stepped forward and shoved me aside, his eyes cold and sharp. "What the hell is wrong with you, Helen? She just came through a bad night — one small bite of cake, and you pull this? You're so consumed by jealousy that you can't even stand to see your own daughter happy?"

Roxi burst into tears. "Mama is bad! She smashed my cake! Mama is a bad person, I don't want mama anymore, I want Ivy!" She stretched her arms out toward Ivy, still crying, and Ivy gathered her close immediately, rubbing her back and murmuring softly.

I wanted to explain. I wanted to tell them that her gastrointestinal lining was severely compromised, that she needed to fast for at least another day, that even a single bite of something that rich could trigger a perforation and land her back in the emergency room. The words were all there.

But when I opened my mouth, nothing came.

Because I understood, in that moment, what was true: it was only in the worst of her pain, in the blind helplessness of the night before, that she had reached for me. Now that she felt better, she didn't need me anymore.

Ivy glanced over at me. There was something in her eyes — brief, controlled, but unmistakable. Contempt. Quiet satisfaction. Then it was gone, replaced by an expression of careful remorse. "Miss Davis, I'm sorry. I only wanted to cheer her up — I didn't know she wasn't supposed to have sweets. I truly meant nothing by it. Please don't be upset. I apologize."

"She has nothing to apologize for. This isn't her fault." Kael pulled both Ivy and Roxi into his arms and looked at me over their heads, his voice flat and final. "Roxi was perfectly fine the whole time she was with me and Ivy. She's been home less than a day and she ends up in the hospital. The truth is you don't know how to take care of her — you never did. You put her through hell, and now you have the nerve to make a scene. Go home, Helen. Ivy and I will stay with Roxi until she's discharged. There's no need for you to come back."