Chapter 3. She can’t blame anyone else for the path she has chosen.

"Still not dead?" As the call connected, an icy, warmthless voice reached her ears. Titus Zane smiled faintly, her pale lips parting slightly, but as she was about to speak, she was interrupted by the man’s cold voice. "If you’re not dead, come back immediately!" With a snap, the man hung up the phone. "Okay..." Numbly responding to the disconnected phone, Titus Zane mustered a slight, bitter smile, placed the phone back in her bag, and slowly stood up, supporting herself with one hand on the chair. It was the path she chose, she couldn’t blame anyone else. Sёarch* The nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. No matter how hard, she could only endure. Perhaps from sitting too long, as she stood up, a dizzy sensation overcame her. Titus Zane instinctively pressed her temples, and her tall figure swayed. Then, everything blackened, as her lofty figure toppled to one side. On the plastic chair where she sat, the imprint of her body was distinctly marked by a pool of liquid, and on her light brown, wide-legged pants, that smear of crimson was glaringly vivid. Right after the man hung up, Olivia Zane wheeled over to him. "Nathan, how many times have I told you? Be nicer when talking to your sister. After all, she is your bedfellow, taking my place to act as your wife has not been easy. For my sake, don’t make it harder for her," she said as she wheeled up to him, lifting her little face pleadingly, "Okay?" The man’s normally cold expression warmed up, his sexy thin lips slightly parting, a gentle arc at the corners of his mouth that showed his tenderness, a stark contrast to the man who had just been on the phone. "Okay," he said, bending a knee and kneeling in front of her. He caressed her petite face. Olivia Zane covered his hands with hers, her makeup-free delicate face rubbing against his palm, her lips curving into a smile, "You’re truly kind." ... In a private hospital room at the city center, Titus Zane lay on the bed, her face pale and frail looking. The indifferent man, having some consideration, had her admitted to a fully equipped VIP room instead of a regular ward. Perhaps to avoid losing face, or perhaps to keep his mother from finding out, Titus thought. "Sis, why do you make me worry so much, something as risky as a dilation and curettage, why didn’t you let Nathan be with you?" Olivia Zane, still seated in her wheelchair, skillfully peeled an apple. "It’s okay, I won’t die." Seeing the worry displayed by her sister, Titus Zane just wanted to laugh; wearing a mask all day wasn’t tiring for her. "Sis!" Olivia Zane stopped her apple peeling, her puffy little face staring at her sister on the bed, "How can you not take care of yourself like this? Do you know how guilty I’d feel if anything happened to you! If it weren’t because of me... how could you suffer such indignity." Upon hearing the word "guilty," Titus Zane lowered her eyes, her long, fine lashes hiding all emotions. "I should be the one feeling guilty," her voice was low, as if speaking to herself. Although she and her younger sister had never gotten along, she had never wanted to cause her to be incapacitated. "Sis, what are you talking about? It wasn’t intentional at the time, and although I resented and even hated you for a long time, later I thought maybe it was all fate..." here, Olivia Zane lowered her gaze, the corners of her lips curling into a faint smile that could not hide her sadness. "Besides, the situation now is quite good. I can live with the man I love most, and also stay close with my sister..."