Delete My Love for You novel Chapter 164

“Women like you—were you born to be so ungrateful?”

Charlotte’s gaze sharpened.

She was clear on most things, but Xena donating blood? That made no sense.

Hadn’t Darren just forced her to give blood to Xena because Xena was anemic? When did things get flipped around?

She instinctively arched an eyebrow and scanned the nurse’s chart on the nightstand. Sure enough, on one slip she read:

[Lottie: IV transfusion, 400 mL]

[Donor: Xena]

So, it wasn’t her blood they’d taken earlier—it was Xena’s, given to her?

Even so, she felt no urge to be grateful.

First of all, if Xena gave blood, it had to be for some selfish reason. There was no way her motives were pure.

Second, Xena owed her far more than a bag of blood could ever repay. After what she’d done at the Astra Hotel, even a thousand deaths wouldn’t settle the score.

And Darren’s supposed kindness today?

Hit her one moment, then shove some sugar in her mouth the next, expecting her to fall at his feet in gratitude? Ridiculous.

Charlotte masked her expression and turned to Bradley, her tone cool and casual. “Some people, I never asked for their help—they just force it on you. Then they expect you to be grateful, hold it over you like a leash. Honey, don’t you think that’s pathetic?”

Bradley was momentarily taken aback.

Clearly, the resentment between Darren and his ex-wife ran deep.

He’d worried Charlotte might betray him for her ex, but now he realized he’d probably overthought it.

Darren, however, nearly exploded at Charlotte’s word—“pathetic.” The veins in his temple bulged as he shot to his feet, voice trembling with fury and cold. “Say that again, Charlotte. Go on. I dare you.”

Charlotte didn’t even glance his way.

Bradley’s voice rang out, steady and commanding. “Mr. Harrington, watch your tone. You’re speaking to the lady of the Fairchild family.”

That public show of support only fanned Darren’s rage.

Charlotte nodded. “Alright.”

After Bradley left, Charlotte’s gaze dimmed. “Thank you, Mr. Fairchild,” she whispered.

Pity, really. She was the kind of woman who lived on a knife’s edge—hardly the sort worth investing in.

She drifted off to sleep, exhaustion pulling her under.

When she woke again, it was to a voice calling her in a dream—someone calling her “Mom.”

It sounded just like Noah’s voice.

Frowning, Charlotte forced her eyes open, only to realize it wasn’t a dream after all.

Morning light spilled through the windows, illuminating two children at her bedside. Ryan and Noah, nearly the same height, stood side by side, watching her with wide eyes.

Charlotte’s gaze slid past Noah’s eager, hopeful face without a word.

Instead, she turned to Ryan with gentle concern. “Ryan, are you alright?”