RankNovelChapter 168 During those three years with the Linwood family, each winter felt like an insurmountable challenge for her. If May hadn't discovered her late-night bouts of gastric pain and incessant vomiting, often preparing her seasy-to-digest pasta or warm broth to soothe her stomach, she feared she might have succumbed to the pain.
Even then, she naively worried about Ethan's stomach issues, passing on the recipe for a nourishing soup to May, hoping she would prepare it for him whenever she couldn't take care of Brian herself.
After Claire went to prison, May continued to follow her instructions and made the soup for Ethan. However, as May grew older and without Claire's constant reminders, Ethan only got to enjoy it once in a while. Over time, his stomach troubles returned.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHearing the servant's words, Ethan's face turned dark. "Then go make it for me. I want it exactly as it used to be." The servant looked distressed. "Sir, it's not that I don't want to. It takes over two hours to make, needing constant attention and stirring to prevent it from sticking. Besides, I really don't know May's exact method." Who would have the tto supervise May making soup for over two hours? What's more, May sacrificed her own rest to do this without extra pay.
Ethan felt a bitter pang; it seemed he wouldn't be having the soup that day. "Then getmy medication." The servant wore an apologetic expression. "Sir, we're not sure where you keep your medicine or which type you take. May always handled that." Upon hearing this, Ethan's stomach ached even more, the pain crashing over him in relentless waves, threatening to drown him. Helpless, he curled up on the sofa, his hands clutching his abdomen, his face contorted in pain.
The servant sighed softly, picked up the bowl, and left the room, leaving it in a deathly silence once more. Ethan remained curled up on the sofa, his gaze hollow and unfocused. No soup, no medication. All he could do was endure the waves of pain.
Tslipped by unnoticed, and when the pain finally subsided, night had already fallen. Ethan slowly got up, the house completely silent, with Nathan and Adah long asleep.
He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of warm water. The warmth trickled down his throat and into his stomach, bringing a small measure of relief.
He stood there lost in thought for a while before he moved, not back to his room, but towards the storage room.
As he pushed open the door, a wave of stuffy, damp air hit him. The smell carried an old, musty scent that made Ethan wrinkle his nose.
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After adjusting to the dim light, he walked inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on an old desk in the corner. The desk was worn and didn't match the elegance of the Linwood family's villa, its origins a mystery.
The desk was covered in books, all of which Claire had used during her high school years. Ethan approached the desk, sat down, and flipped through them. Each book was filled with Claire's meticulous notes, which, under the dim light, appeared both blurred and painfully vivid, piercing Ethan's heart.
He could almost see Claire sitting there, diligently writing.
On the day she chfrom prison, Claire had mentioned she was the top of her class at Cresthaven Academy. She had once brimmed with hope, believing she could change her fate through knowledge. Yet, all her efforts seemed to have gone to waste because of her imprisonment.
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