The Marriage That Never Existed novel Chapter 32

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Chapter6

When I woke, Father was sitting by my bed, his eyes red–rimmed.

I instinctively shrank back.

A needle was taped to my hand, the IV dripping into my arm. My skin felt icy.

I should have spoken, but it was as though I had forgotten how.

“Do you feel any better?” Father asked.

I nodded. The pain was gone.

“Are you hungry?”

He reached out, wanting to touch my hand.

I jerked away without thinking, staring at him, afraid, afraid he might strike me again.

Father froze, then quietly pulled his hand back.

“Ruby… you didn’t steal anything, did you?”

My fingers closed around the locket at my throat, the pale silver locket shaped like a moon.

But then I remembered. Mom had said she didn’t want me. She didn’t want me at all.

If Chloe liked it so much, then she could have it.

I slipped the locket off and placed it in Father’s hand.

He stared at me, stunned.

“I asked your mother. She told me herself, she gave it to you. Ruby… this was my fault.”

His voice cracked. “I didn’t investigate, I just believed others.”

His eyes trembled as if he were about to cry.

But inside me, there was nothing.

Before, when he misunderstood me, it had felt like claws raking across my heart. This time, there

was only emptiness.

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“Can you forgive me?” he asked softly.

I stared at him, unable to form words. I didn’t know how.

After a long silence, his broad shoulders seemed smaller, as if bent under some unseen weight.

He turned toward the door. “Bring them in.”

Andrew, Blake, and Carter shuffled inside, arms full of toys and snacks.

“Ruby, look!” Carter’s smile was bright, eager. “This is the newest Transformers model. I already built it for you. Do you like it?”

But I felt nothing.

Mom didn’t want us. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good. They just didn’t love me.

Blake held out a pack of candy. “Sweetheart, do you want this? It’s really good. Didn’t you say you wanted us to spoil you?”

I shook my head.

Then I held out the locket.

“To give it to Chloe?” Blake asked.

I nodded.

His grin faltered. For once, he couldn’t force a laugh.

“We asked already. It really was from Mom…”

I closed my eyes and lay down, pulling the blanket tight around me, turning toward the window.

When the IV finished, I climbed out of bed to use the restroom. At the door, voices drifted in.

“How could such a young child have drunk chili–infused water? And then cold water on top of that, no wonder she had uncontrollable diarrhea.”

“And the fever, she hit 103 degrees, unconscious for days. It’s a miracle she woke at all.”

“You mean she might not speak again?”

“Could be psychological trauma. I recommend a full evaluation this afternoon.”

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“And we’ll need to observe her. Prolonged high fever can affect cognitive function.”

I heard Father’s halting voice.

“Doctor… why would a child suddenly become distant from her father?”

The doctor chuckled lightly.

“That’s not unusual. She’s been traumatized. Her body and mind need time to adjust. Give her

space.”

That afternoon, they took me to the child psychology unit. Dr. Bennett asked me to draw, so I drew. He asked questions, and I answered.

When Father received the report, his hands trembled.

He seemed… strange.

On the way out of the hospital, my brothers sat in the car, grinning at me.

But their smiles made my skin crawl.

I turned away, trying to walk off.

Blake stepped in front of me. “Ruby, get in the car.

Before, they had always blocked me from entering.

This was the first time they wanted me inside.

Father swept me into his arms. “Get out,” he snapped at them.

Andrew and Blake slunk away to the second car, silent.

But even in Father’s arms, I couldn’t relax. Being near him only made me tense,

At dinner, I managed just two bites before everything came back up.

Father’s frown deepened. He arranged for a nutritionist to come the next morning. And a child psychologist.

That night, half–asleep, I heard voices. I crept out and saw them, my three brothers, standing in

the living room, pale with fear.

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“Andrew first,” Father ordered.

Andrew, always the most serious, was trembling.

“We were just… playing with her,” he stammered.

The antique ruler cracked across his back. His scream tore through the house.

“Is this how you treat your sister?” Father thundered. He gestured toward Ms. Parker, Ruby’s

teacher, who stood nearby with a USB drive.

“If not for the footage she brought me, I’d still be in the dark. You slandered her. You tormented her. And you call yourselves heirs of the Harrington name?”

Ms. Parker tried to speak up for them, but Father didn’t even glance at her.

“Mr. Jenkins, see the guest out.

Andrew didn’t cry, didn’t beg, just whispered, “I was wrong.”

Then Father asked the question that made the room freeze. “Who decided to lock her in the basement?”