His "True Love" Was Fake... So Was My Corpse, Sucker! - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

At bedtime, Whitney heard heavy rain outside with thunder and lightning.
She was most afraid of thunder, quickly putting on noise-canceling headphones and curling up under the covers waiting for it to pass.
Suddenly she heard her son crying sharply from the crib.
She forced herself through her fear to check on him—the baby was burning up with a bright red face, constantly spitting up milk!
Whitney's expression changed. She grabbed the child and rushed downstairs to catch a taxi to the hospital.
She lived in a suburban wedding house, and with the rain, it was hard to get a car.
Whitney was frantically worried when she saw a familiar Rolls-Royce drive by.
In the car were Harrison and Vera!
"Stop the car, STOP!"
Whitney couldn't care about their grudges.
Fighting the fierce wind while holding an umbrella, she ran over with all her strength, pounding on the car window: "Harrison, let me in the car—our Camden has a high fever and needs to go to the hospital!"
Harrison rolled down the window, staring into her eyes, his voice icy: "What a sneaky woman. Since I won't come home, now you're lying about the kid being sick to trick me, huh?"
"Camden really has a fever!" Whitney was sweating frantically, her voice shaking: "Harrison, I've never asked you for anything—just this once!"
"Please, for the sake of me taking care of you for three years when you were blind, drive me and my son to the hospital. He needs to see a doctor RIGHT NOW!"
"Harrison, it's hard to get taxis in the rain. Just let them in." Vera helped adjust the man's tie, her voice gentle: "My forehead injury will heal in a few days—it's fine."
"You silly girl, you've been screwed over by Whitney so many times. When will you learn?" Harrison frowned with displeasure: "We're taking Marcus to the dentist—no time to waste on her. Drive!"
With that, the car sped off, splashing muddy water all over Whitney's coat and chilling her to the bone until she was shaking too hard to speak.
Harrison had forgotten how much he once loved her, wishing she was dead—that was cruel enough.
Tonight he wouldn't even save his own biological son!
Unfit to be a father!
She forced her exhausted body to run to the main road, frantically waving at passing cars.
Finally an Uber stopped. The driver ran over and opened the door: "Your child's sick? Quick, get in—I'll take you to the hospital."
"Thank you." Whitney held the child tight, tears streaming: "Camden, you gotta hang in there—we'll be at the hospital soon!"
"Young lady, I can see your baby's really small—not even a month old yet, right? High fever like this, how come they let a new mother like you run out alone?"
The driver asked: "Where's your husband?"
"He's dead." Whitney's voice was flat.
The driver looked at her sympathetically: "Not easy. I've got dry towels in the trunk—wipe your hair. Getting chilled during recovery is no joke, especially when you can't take any medicine."
Whitney thanked him and took the towel to dry her hair.
She saw the car quickly catch up to the Rolls-Royce ahead, waiting side by side at a red light.
Through the window, she saw Vera sitting on Harrison's lap kissing him, shooting her a provocative look.
"Young lady, that rich guy in the car... is he your husband?" The driver followed Whitney's gaze and said angrily: "This is fucking inhuman! The kid's this sick and he's making out with his mistress, ignoring you and the child?"
"You gave him a SON!"
"So what if it's a son? He only likes raising other people's kids, not his own." Whitney lowered her head to wipe the baby's arms and elbows with alcohol, her voice bitter: "Please hurry!"