Dark Revenge Of An Unwanted Wife: The Twins Are Not Yours!

Chapter 192: Patient 409: Vindication

Athena’s tears fell unbidden when she saw the bright color of Mrs. Mendoza countenance, patient 409, a sharp contrast to the previous near-death state of the aged woman.

She didn’t care for the police officials and people who turned to stare at her in surprise, wondering why she was crying so unabashedly.

They wouldn’t understand, she thought, wiping off the tears that refused to heed her command to stop falling. Her life’s work had been on the brink of being contaminated, being extinguished, and yet there stood a flicker of hope that maybe the gang’s plans would be foiled once again.

She was so engrossed with her thoughts, fighting to stop her tears from falling, that she didn’t notice when the female officer sat near her again, until the latter tapped her reassuringly on the shoulder.

"You see, everything is working well. I’m sure you’ll be out of here soon."

Athena nodded her thanks, fixing her eyes on the screen. Mrs. Mendoza was about to speak.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Vanessa Mendoza. Some of you might be familiar with the name. My husband and I run the popular Mendoza’s Motors Company."

Patient 409’s voice was very steady and clear, and Athena’s heart warmed at seeing the woman full with life again.

"Well, I met Athena a few months ago upon her resumption at Whitman Hospital. At that time, I was already a patient there, afflicted with the Grey disease, just waiting for my death day because, as we were told, there was no cure. But then, she came, and everything changed."

Athena leaned in closer, her heart pounding.

"I was cured at the first trial..." Mrs. Mendoza paused, her voice thick with emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks, tears of gratitude mingling with relief.

The station was silent; curiosity and anticipation filled the air, pulling everyone closer into Mrs. Mendoza’s story.

"Then I was infected again. I don’t know how it happened, but the symptoms just returned. My husband rushed me to the hospital. This time, though, it was different. The disease progressed rapidly, degenerating my body at an alarming rate. I barely had time to process it."

A brief pause.

but nothing happened. Then she tried a triple dosage, as her assisting doctor had informed her while administering the medicine, but my body resisted the drugs, birthing more problems.

my ward with an injection. She said it was newly improved. I trusted her, just like I did the first time, and gave her consent. She injected me, and a few hours later, I was already feeling better. My improvement motivated the others

forward as if doing so would allow her to absorb everything Mrs. Mendoza was sharing. She didn’t even notice that the female office beside her had

room by a nurse on duty. He mentioned it was a safety measure for those infected with

A male nurse? Who was that? When had that command gone forth? Who had given it? Was

us to this room. We didn’t think much of it at the time; we were just trying to avoid infecting others. But later, I woke up to voices in the middle of the night—like an argument. I didn’t catch much, but they were discussing injecting our drips with a

raced. What medicine could that be? Succinylcholine again? The implications were alarming, and she couldn’t help but

had to do something," Mrs. Mendoza continued. "So I tried waking up the patients, but they were mostly still unconscious. I had no choice but to hide in the cabinet, listening and watching through a tiny crack. I watched them enter the room and inject something into

you see them?" The reporter asked, his

head.

woman had claimed she knew, she would become a target for immense retaliation. It was better the latter claimed to be

empty bed?" The

drip stand to the toilet. I left it there when I discovered what was happening. They thought it was just an empty bed, and the noise

did you

waited until everything was quiet, then ran home to my husband to tell him what had happened. There was nothing I could have done to save those other patients; I didn’t know if the criminals were still around, or if they were watching. What if I reported it and the person turned

cured me! As you can see, I’m feeling better now. Someone wants to stop her research. It goes to show that the Grey

pride washing over her as Mrs. Mendoza’s voice lifted, pitch rising higher as she raised her right hand in determined

police station, the atmosphere

against the wall, her heart swelling with gratitude as Aiden moved in front of the camera again, after

anything else to say, Mr. Aiden Hunt?" The reporter prompted, and Athena leaned in closer again, curious about

the camera revealed Mr. Thomas, the Minister of Health, standing beside