The Billionaire's Secret Vow: My Husband Chose His First Love

4.

I held back my sister, who wanted to fight for me, and said in a wronged voice.

"There's a camera in this ward. Go to the nurses' station right now and pull the footage. Let's see whose foot actually stepped on hers."

"So now you've learned to deny it too!"

Seeing me refuse to admit it, Gilbert boiled over with rage.

But the moment Selma heard the word footage, her face froze, and she tugged at his sleeve.

"Gilbert, let it go. The nurses work hard enough as it is."

"Maybe I clipped the corner of the wall when I turned. You know how bad my sense of direction is. I might have blamed Julia by mistake."

"One thing after another today. I don't know, maybe it's this body of mine that keeps drawing trouble."

She said it while sliding her eyes over toward me, every word hinting that I was clumsy and rough.

Gilbert gave a small nod and let it drop, but the look he turned on me was still displeased.

I honestly didn't want to spend another second looking at these two, so I just shut the ward door.

I'd had less than ten minutes of peace before Gilbert shoved the door open and barged in.

He clamped a hand around my arm, his face taut with urgency.

"Julia, there you are. Finally."

Hearing that, my sister shot me a startled look and raised her eyebrows.

I knew what she was hinting at, but I didn't have a shred of feeling left for Gilbert now.

Sure enough, he opened his mouth.

"Selma's friend can read the signs of an unborn baby. She says the one in your belly has too much heat to it, and it clashes with the girl Selma's carrying."

"Now Selma's been thrown off by you, the baby won't settle, keeps stirring. You have to come sit at her bedside so the balance evens out and steadies her. Come with me right now!"

I didn't want to, but Gilbert dragged me to Selma's ward anyway.

A crowd stood at the foot of Selma's bed, and on the floor sat a basin of murky mugwort soaking in talisman water.

They watched me with their brows knit tight, as if I were something filthy.

Selma lay on the bed with a pained look, hand over her belly, moaning softly, as if her baby really were restless inside her.

"Julia's here. What do we do next to fix it?" Gilbert asked anxiously.

Selma's friend jumped in at once.

"First step. We take the mugwort soaked in incense-ash water and whip it across her. The harder the better. That's how you drive her heat off her clean, so she won't disturb Selma's baby again down the line."

I hadn't even processed it.

Gilbert's coworkers and friends, along with Selma's friend, had already grabbed fistfuls of dripping mugwort and were swinging them down over my head and face.

My sister tried to lunge over and shield me, but they had the numbers and pinned her down flat, even clapped a hand over her mouth.

They boxed me in the middle, the mugwort lashing my cheeks and neck, rank and wet.

The stalks dragged across my face and left endless streaks of blood.

My hair was yanked loose, bits of shredded weed stuffed down the collar of my hospital gown, and every inch of exposed skin burned like it was on fire.

I threw my arms up to guard my face and screamed at Gilbert.

"Gilbert, have you lost your mind? This is all backward superstition!"

He stood beside Selma's bed, letting her lean against his side while he slowly rubbed her belly for her. He turned his head to me and spread his hands.

"With something like this, better safe than sorry. I'm not gambling with Selma and the baby."

"Besides, your parents are still rotting in prison. Someone who comes from roots like that, how clean could she possibly be?"