Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1192: Dotty Is Mort Thorne’s Daughter
In the apartment.
The room was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant. The masked doctor stepped out, "The patient has been bandaged up, needs rest, no major issues."
Mort Thorne was hit by a car and turned out fine. This man is tough, with a strong will to live.
Dianna Hollis looked at the man lying on the bed, "Can you find out why he had the amputation?"
Why is his leg suddenly gone?
Three years ago, he was perfectly fine.
After some thought, the doctor replied, "The amputated right leg of the patient seems to have sustained a gunshot wound, but... the gunshot alone is not enough for an amputation, there must be other significant reasons. You can ask the patient himself."
Dianna was silent.
"The patient is allergic to prosthetics; wearing one causes redness and inflammation. I’ve heard that abroad they’ve developed prosthetic limbs similar to robots, which are very modern. Once worn, they allow free movement like a normal person. I think you should contact doctors abroad."
Saying this, the doctor glanced at the prosthetic picked up from the street, "This prosthetic is of poor material. It’s better not to use it often."
Dianna nodded, "Alright, I understand. Thank you, doctor."
The doctor left.
Dianna approached the bed; Mort was still unconscious. She reached out her finger to touch the stubble on his face. At just over forty years old, the man was no longer young, but he seemed to have deliberately kept the stubble. His deep, silent, and hard look gave off an inexplicable allure. Men at his level in their forties are truly rare finds.
This is his real face.
Dianna stared at him intently. She liked both Cain Shaw’s face and his current one.
No matter how many faces he changed, she could recognize him.
Just then, there was a "knock-knock" at the door. The maid spoke from outside, "Miss, President Alden is here."
Raymond Alden had arrived.
Dianna withdrew her hand, "Understood, I’m going down now."
Dianna walked out.
...
In the room.
Mort Thorne slowly opened his eyes; the ceiling above wasn’t the mottled roof of the mountains, but a champagne-colored canopy embroidered with gold threading. A dazzling crystal chandelier penetrated through the canopy, with a warm bed and soft pillows.
Mort moved slightly, and with a "ding," a wind chime sounded a cheerful laughter.
This was Dianna Hollis’s room, her bed.
The girl’s bed wasn’t extra-large, and his sturdy six-foot-three frame had sunken a large part of it. More importantly, his feet extended off; there was no room left.
He had actually slept on her bed.
Mort glanced to the side; his cold, handsome face pressed against the pillow, which was soft and fragrant, lingering with her scent.
He snuggled for a while, then sat up. His upper body was bare, wrapped in white bandages, while he still wore his black trousers. The half-empty pant leg, already cut off, highlighted his abrupt amputation.
He rose from the bed, intending to find his prosthetic limb.
But he suddenly remembered that the prosthetic had been knocked away; he wondered if she had picked it up for him.
His deep, ink-black eyes swept across the princess room, not seeing the person he wanted. Dianna wasn’t there.
He walked to the door and reached out to open it.
Soon, he found who he was looking for.
However, his broad, rough palm instantly tightened on the doorknob. His sharp, deep eyes fell on the dining room, where two people sat at a luxurious rectangular dining table: Dianna and Raymond Alden, facing each other. An enterprise boss and a young maiden—together they made a striking pair.
Raymond Alden...
Her husband had come.
She was having dinner with her husband.
"Dianna, do you have time recently? Let’s go take a trip together?" Raymond said, placing the sliced steak beside Dianna’s hand.
Was she going to travel with Raymond?
Just awakened, Mort’s thin lips were pale and dry. He pursed them, staring at that elegant figure.
Dianna placed a small piece of steak in her mouth and chewed, replying nonchalantly, "If there’s time, let’s go."
"Alright."
From upstairs, Mort watched. She had agreed, and it made sense—she was married to Raymond. It’s just a trip, yet he felt so hurt?
In the parts unseen, she might have done countless intimate things with Raymond as husband and wife.
His dry lips formed a cold arc, and he closed the door.
Approaching the sofa, he single-handedly took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. He lit it softly.
He began to smoke alone.
Now he could only rely on the nicotine to numb and restrain himself, or else he wouldn’t be able to control it, unable to hold back... from wanting to take her back.
...
Downstairs, Dianna looked up, watching the door close.
She had known Mort was there as soon as he appeared.
Raymond followed her gaze upstairs, "Is he here with you?"
Dianna lowered her lashes, "Yes."
"What do you plan to do in the future?"
"I don’t know..."
Raymond was silent for a few seconds, "He probably still doesn’t know about Dotty’s existence. Either way, Dotty is his biological daughter, and you don’t want them to meet?"
Three years ago, Mort had been released from prison, and she was with him, but then her ’period’ came.
In truth, it wasn’t her period—it was the sign of a miscarriage in early pregnancy. She had signs of a miscarriage.
She had been unaware of her pregnancy; her belly hadn’t even grown after four months, and her weight loss from Mort’s departure and presumed death was significant.
That day, she attempted suicide at his grave, and Raymond and Jodie Young arrived just in time to rush her to the hospital.
Though she was saved, her heart had died with Mort.
She could die once and would do so again.
But that was when the doctor told her she was pregnant.
At that time, Dotty was almost five months in her belly.
She hadn’t known about her pregnancy and had used medication and alcohol during this time, which could adversely affect the fetus. Nonetheless, the doctor performed a comprehensive check-up and said the child was healthy.
This was Mort’s child.
Though he left, he gave her a child.
That night in the hospital, she placed her small hand on her abdomen, and little Dotty suddenly kicked her. At that moment, hot tears welled up, and she cradled herself, breaking into uncontrollable sobs.
Mort had been gone so long, and not a single tear had shed, but at that moment, tears flooded as she cried uncontrollably.
Although Dotty was a girl, her vitality mirrored her father’s—tenacious and resilient.
She no longer thought of dying; she began to live well.
Dotty became her hope, bringing new colors to her dark life.
Dianna’s lashes trembled, "Dotty is my daughter. It has nothing to do with him. From the moment he didn’t want me, he lost the right to know about Dotty’s existence."
