No one was willing to critize Mr. Davis for his formal oldest daughter's behavior; everyone blamed Naomie, Elisabeta's mother.
"Like mother, like daughter," as the old adage goes.
Elisabeta was engaged in a deadly accident 10 years ago and was in need of blood. The school bus she was in crashed, but she was the most seriously injured. Mr. Davis swiftly gave blood for his daughter, but neither his blood nor that of his wife, Naomie, matched.
He began to question whether Elisabeta was a child from his loin when the bulk of the family examined and none of their blood matched Elisabeta's, therefore he asked the doctor to perform a DNA test.
The results gave him a heart attack; his sole kid in this world, whom he had assumed would be his heiress to all he acquired, turned out not to be his. He would ride if wishes were horses, but Naomie's womb cannot function again due to some birth complications.
This information has already spread across the country. Everyone knew that Mr. Davis and Naomie's marriage was planned by the Garcia's and Smith families, but Naomie could have respected herself regardless of how she felt.
So would it be strange if the daughter followed in her mother's footsteps?
"I did not do it" Elisabeta's voice spilled out after she sulked her bleeding lips; her voice was low like the darkness, but Mr. Davis still heard it. He dropped the burnt pipe in his palms and ground it to powder with his shoes. He got to his feet.
The smile on everyone's face appeared all at once. Mr. Davis Garcia was finally going to take action against this shameless daughter. Their gazes followed his moves as he approached Elisabeta with his phone in his left ear. Some people were muttering, while others remained still.
Who wouldn't be interested in hearing what Mr. Davis Gracia has to say? Maybe he was going to summon his military comrades to give Elisabeta a lesson she would never forget.
Their expression was filled with sadness when just two men walked in.
"Take her away; do what I instructed." Mr. Davis said to the men who just walked in, then turned and walked out of the courtroom, not looking back at the people behind him.
Elisabeta's wail broke the hush that had engulfed everyone. The men carried her like a pregnant woman in labor, but she couldn't deny the anguish seeping from her body as a result of the manner she was tossed across the room by her so-called LOML— Lucas Anderson.
——
"AH!"
Elisabeta heard a small voice wail, she lifted her head from her lap.
She was waiting at the bus stop for a bus or a cab to take her to the hospital but none of them would give her a ride.
'I think they already seen the video,' her wounded heart sobbed after receiving confirmation from the elderly lady who was sitted at the window side facing the bus stop and wouldn't stop looking and shouting at her till the bus passed.
Her father had attempted to be a decent parent to her by giving her some money—to flee the city, of course.
"What a nice old man," she grumbled.
Her dear old father couldn't endure the embarrassment of allowing an unpleasant daughter to live under his roof; couldn't he have said so instead of sending his men to give her money so she could disappear from his sight? It's not like she enjoyed being at his house in the first place.
Her blood pressure soared as she watched the event unfold in front of her eyes. There were no road traces and the area was completely dry. She'd walked an hour down from the bus station to who knows where.
She leaned her back on the wall because she believed the man who had hit the child had been polite enough to get out of his car and check on the kid; she had determined that the man was not a hit-and-run like most city drivers. Her guess appeared to be incorrect.
"Hey!" She shouted, but her voice was too quiet, and to make matters worst, the man had already zipped away like nothing had occurred. Even though she saw the glimpse of the man's face, she couldn't ignore the need to assist the youngster who lay hopelessly on the floor.
"Who am I kidding?" she snarled when she realized that yelling for aid wouldn't help because her voice was barely above a whisper. She knelt down and checked the child's heartbeat to see whether he was still alive. She dipped her hands inside her handbag to get her phone and dail 911
When she'd realized she left her phone at her father's place, she tightened her teeth. She breathed, picked up the infant in her arm, and leaped to her feet. She looked around and realized it could be an abandoned location.
"Please don't die on me," she begged wiping the tears from her eyes as her small legs sprung into motion. If she had known, she would not have returned to Las Vegas, but what other options does she have?
She would not have gone to that bar and straddled that man, who she has no idea what he looks like, if her mother hadn't been diagnosed with that disease.
——
Back to the present~~
As the door near where Elisabeta sat opened, her thoughts returned to the present. She rushed to her feet and halted the doctor, who had just exited the ward where the child had been admitted.
"How is he doing?" She inquired of the doctor. The doctor smiled broadly and nodded her head. Elisabeta sighed and placed her hands on her chest, relieved, and the doctor's face indicated good news.
"The infant is improving; there are no issues," the doctor said, peering at her wristwatch.
"The child is not mine."
"I know, dear. you don't have to be concerned about the bills, his father has already taken care of it. Be worried about yourself and your troubles. However, I appreciate your concern" the doctor bowed slightly and grinned once more before going away.
Elisabeta shrugged and returned to sit on the bench. She was overjoyed. One of her concerns had been alleviated; the child was improving. The doctor wasn't lying when she urged her to worry about herself. Her mother was discharged a week ago, but there was no money to bail her out.
She lifted her dress above her hurting knees. She winced as she noticed the large incision on her knees, and her eyes began to water.
If somebody had informed her that her darling Lucas could strike her, she would have killed the person and thrown the corpse into the cesspit, but here she is, attempting to relieve the agony of the torment he had inflicted on her.
"Miss, your wound is deep; it will become infected if not treated right away." Elisabeta lifted her head to get a closer look at the…