The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

After Twila fainted, she collapsed into Hestia's arms.

Ignoring her own injuries, Hestia, clutching her daughter, stumbled towards the nearby clinic.

The doctor, familiar with them, sighed upon seeing their wounds, "Hestia, I've told you before, why didn't you call the police?"

What good could come from a man who hits?

The whole neighborhood knew the kind of life Hestia was enduring, but she wouldn't listen, protecting her husband even after being battered and bruised.

As the doctor tended to Twila's wounds, Hestia nervously twisted her sleeve, "He's not usually like this."

Only when he's drunk, he becomes violent.

The doctor rolled her eyes, exasperation clear. Being drunk is no excuse for violence!

After treating the little girl, the doctor handed Hestia some ointment, "You really need to think this through. You might tolerate it, but do you think your daughter can be happy in this environment?" "There's an old saying, 'A mother's love is fierce.' No matter how much you love your husband, his actions show he doesn't care about you."

Hestia remained silent.

The doctor didn't press further, "Your daughter's injuries are serious. Get them properly checked at the hospital when you have the money, to avoid any long-term effects." Hestia nodded, muttering a thanks.

After the doctor left, only the mother and daughter remained in the cramped room.

Hestia applied the ointment with practiced ease, her body a map of overlapping new and old wounds.

After finishing, she stayed by Twila's side until the IV was done, then pulled out some change to pay the doctor.

"Keep your money," the doctor insisted, not wanting to take it.

Hestia, knowing it was out of pity, left the money and disappeared into the night with her daughter.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

Returning home, the place was a mess.

After putting Twila to bed, Hestia cleaned up, collapsing next to her daughter around 3 AM.

Waking later, Hestia saw her husband, remorseful, holding a bag of doughnuts and a cup of coffee, "Honey, I was a fool last night, did I hurt you?"

Looking at his bloated, alcohol-ravaged face, she could hardly recognize the man she married seven years ago.

She got up, "I need to take Twila for a check-up later."

"We're out of money, don't ask me for more."

His face twisted briefly in anger, but then he pleaded, "Honey, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Hestia, immune to his apologies, quickly finished the doughnuts and coffee, "You should rest."

He kissed her, "I'm so sorry. I won't drink anymore."

Hestia looked away, tired of the same old promises.

At the hospital, Twila's CT scan came back clear, but the doctor was concerned about Hestia's injuries. She refused further examination, claiming she had fallen. While waiting for the bus, Twila eyed a candy apple stand with longing.

Hestia noticed, her heart aching.

She couldn't afford to buy one.

"Twila, do you want one?"

Twila shook her head, "No, Mom, I'm just looking."

Hestia approached the vendor, pulling out a couple of dollars, "Sir, how much for one?"

"Five dollars."

With only two dollars, Hestia hesitated.

Twila tugged at her sleeve, "It's okay, Mom. I don't really want it. Let's go home."

Unable to bear her daughter's understanding, Hestia faced the vendor, "Could we just get two slices?"

A whole candy apple had five slices for five dollars; she could only afford two.