My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 240

“Hannah?”

Hannah walked into the room, holding the roses, her face devoid of expression.

Sandra, who had been sitting up in bed looking frail, heard her name and thought she was imagining things. But then she saw Hannah walking toward her.

The sight of Hannah’s face, juxtaposed with the vibrant red roses, was so jarring that Sandra was momentarily stunned into silence.

“Ms. Woods, I heard you saw someone else with red roses and wanted some for yourself,” Hannah said, placing the bouquet on the table. She sat down, her gaze cool and distant.

“You don’t seem very happy. Are they too small?” She idly toyed with a petal, her voice light and unhurried. “I specifically asked the florist to make the bouquet extra large. I was going to order nine hundred and ninety-nine, but I thought that might be a bit much for a hospital, so I settled for ninety-nine.”

“Lionel originally wanted to just get nine, but I told him that was far too few. It had to be ninety-nine. Such a lucky number, don’t you think, Ms. Woods?”

Silence answered her. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension.

Cora stood frozen by the door, her eyelids twitching uncontrollably.

Sandra’s breathing grew shallow. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Lionel, who had been standing just outside the door, finally entered, carrying a bag of food. Her sarcastic words had made his temples throb.

Hearing Hannah’s words, Cora began to inch her way out of the room. Every word was a poisoned dart aimed directly at her. The room reeked of gunpowder, and if she didn't leave, she would be next.

Hannah caught Cora’s movement out of the corner of her eye. “When Lionel goes home to cook, Cora can stay and take care of you. Just like today. Sometimes, when you’re too embarrassed to ask for things yourself, she can ask for you.”

Cora froze, her feet feeling like they were encased in lead. She didn’t dare move.

Hannah looked from one to the other and let out a small, humorless laugh. “I have to get to work, so I’ll be going. Ms. Woods, you’re the patient now, and your injuries are even worse this time. Don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need.”

“After all,” she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “last time he was willing to bring you divorce papers to appease you. This time, I’m sure he’d be happy to bring you a marriage certificate.”