Henry shook his head like a madman.
He looked up at me dazedly as if searching for something to refute my words, but he was left speechless.
“If he was truly one of a kind to you, you wouldn’t have ignored him, nor would you have forced me to donate blood. You’d rather
make chicken soup for Queenie than spare us even a single glance.”
As soon as I finished speaking, the door to the ward was pushed open.
Queenie walked in, teary–eyed. She immediately put on her innocent act.
“I always knew that you hated me. If you hated me so much, then why did you even donate blood for me? It would have been
better to just let me die rather than live and continue to disgust you.”
As she spoke, her gaze remained fixed on the distraught Henry.
In the past, whenever she said things like this, Henry would always rush to defend her.
Unfortunately, Henry himself was already in despair as he sat on the floor stiffly. His mind was buzzing.
I made no effort to hide my disdain and nodded openly, showing my undisguised dislike for Queenie.
From the moment I could remember, I had always given in to her.
Yet, she always delighted in tormenting me. She was unable to tolerate me having anything of my own.
Author Trophies