Reborn From Oblivion

The maid chimed in, "Exactly. My lady's got the master wrapped around her finger, never having to worry about a thing. Who needs your kind of love that's just pie in the sky? Your kind of love doesn't hold any weight."

Miranda was left speechless.

At the Mental Health Hospital, as soon as the car pulled up, Nathalie was quick to hop out.

But Miranda grabbed her arm, pleading, "Nathalie, please don't leave me."

Nathalie couldn't fathom where Miranda got the nerve-always playing the helpless victim when she needed something, but turning cold and rude otherwise. With a sigh, Nathalie told the maid, "Lend her a hand," then ignored Miranda and walked away.

The maid, though clearly reluctant, agreed, "Alright."

She helped Miranda out of the car and trailed closely behind Nathalie.

They reached Greta's room, where the doctor was in the middle of administering electroconvulsive therapy. The harsh sight brought Miranda to tears, and she kept murmuring, "Greta, Greta. How can you go through this?"

Nathalie stood with her arms crossed, quietly watching Greta. Despite her waxy complexion and sickly appearance, Greta's eyes were sharp and full of life. The pain in them was heartbreaking.

Suddenly, Nathalie spoke up, "Stop."

The doctor, not thrilled about being interrupted, snapped, "We're in the middle of treating a patient. Bystanders shouldn't be interfering."

"We're not just bystanders," Nathalie shot back.

She nodded toward Miranda, introducing her, "She's the patient's mother."

Upon hearing this, the doctor's expression softened, and he began talking to Miranda.

"It's puzzling. Despite lengthy treatment, there's been no improvement in the patient's condition. We're at

our wits' end, which is why we've resorted to electroconvulsive therapy."

"Why is the condition getting worse during treatment?" Miranda asked.

The doctor explained with a seriousnoveldrama

tone, "The main issue is we haven't pinpointed the cause of the patient's condition, so we can't treat it effectively."

"The cause?" Miranda thought aloud, as confused as ever.

The doctor added, "Identifying and eliminating the cause is crucial for recovery. As a family member, you might have some insight into what triggered your daughter's condition. We need your cooperation toget to the bottom of it."

Driven by a mother's love, Miranda shared everything she knew.

"My daughter, when she was in a clear state of mind, mentioned having some dirt on a bigshot. She believed that as long as she held onto it, she could force this powerful person to do her bidding."

Nathalie's face went pale hearing this.

Piecing it together with what Miranda had said the night before, it was obvious that the bigshot Greta referred to was Nathan.

What kind of dirt did Greta have on Nathan that made her so confident someone as proud as him would bow to her?

After exchanging some more small talk, the doctor left the room.

Now, it was just Nathalie, Miranda, and Greta, with the maid keeping watch at the door.

Nathalie approached Greta, who lay weakly on the bed, her eyes following Nathalie's every move.

"Greta, Nathan sends his regards," Nathalie said, intentionally dropping Nathan's name.

Greta instantly became agitated.

She struggled to sit up, but her frail body wouldn't cooperate.

"I was wrong. Please, don't hurt me," she mumbled, barely audible.

"Greta, you were the one who went after Nathan first," Nathalie said slyly, coaxing Greta into revealing the answers she needed.