Married To My Haphephobia Husband

Alice stared at the number on the tablet: $374,581.19.

Those numbers seemed to burn the screen, a cold weight sinking into her stomach, as if she had swallowed a block of ice. The sterile corridors of Manhattan Presbyterian Hospital were filled with the smell of disinfectant, and every breath she took was shallow and tense. The fingers gripping the tablet were numb.

A nurse named Evans walked over, her shoes making a faint creak on the shiny plastic floor. Her gaze remained fixed on the medical records in her hand, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Alice.

"Mrs. Night." She spoke, her voice low and hesitant. "There was a problem with the trust fund payments."

Alice didn't look up from the bill. She had known for a long time. "It's frozen."

Not a question.

Nurse Evans finally met her gaze, a trace of pity flashing in her eyes. "Yes. The hospital's finance department received a notice an hour ago. ”

The chill in Alice's stomach coiled into a cold knot. The Knight family. They are applying pressure.

At the end of the corridor, a sharp, rhythmic click sounded. Her high heels stepped on the marble floor, her voice full of aggression, as if declaring her territory. Alice didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

Belinda Knight stopped a few feet away, followed by two men in dark suits—their shoulders too broad for a dress to be. The expensive and sweet scent of her perfume almost suffocated the hospital's fresh air.

"Oh, yo." Belinda's voice carried a condescending, mocking tone. Her gaze slowly swept over Alice's body, resting on the simple, practical trench coat—a look meant to measure and yet look at disdain. "Still here?"

Alice finally lifted her head. Her expression is a plain and elusive mask. "Move aside."

Belinda laughed, a short and piercing laugh. "You know, for a moment I almost thought you still had some dignity. But look at you—clinging to this family like a leech, exhausting our resources just to maintain that ...... The life of things. She vaguely pointed toward the tightly closed door of the hospital room.

The ice in Alice's stomach shattered, replaced by a sudden wave of heat. But her expression remained calm. "I told you, move aside."

"What else can we do?" Belinda stepped closer, sneering. The air was filled with her self-satisfied sense of superiority. "Are you going to cry? Kneeling down to beg me? You peasants know how to do this. ”

She reached out, her perfectly trimmed fingers trying to push Alice's shoulder.

This move was a mistake.

Before Belinda's hand could touch her, Alice's body reacted instinctively—a smooth, effortless movement. Her hips rotated slightly, shifting her center of gravity skillfully. Belinda's hand hit empty air.

At the same moment, Alice's hand suddenly stretched out, her fingers wrapping around Belinda's wrist. Her grip was like steel—it wouldn't crush, but it was absolutely firm and unmoving.

A sharp cry of pain escaped Belinda's lips. "Let go of me!"

The two bodyguards tensed up, their hands reaching into their jackets.

Alice's eyes were as cold and deep as winter lakes as she met Belinda's gaze. "Touch me again—" Her voice was so weak it was almost whispering, but it pierced through the quiet hum of the hallway, "I'll break your arm." ”

There was no anger in the voice, just a simple statement of fact. This is exactly what terrified Belinda. She saw something in Alice's eyes she had never seen before—a calm yet deadly calm. This is not a threat, it is a promise.

Belinda suddenly pulled her hand back, clutching her wrist as if burned. She staggered back, her face pale from a mix of shock and anger. "You're just trash." She spat out, her voice trembling slightly. "You'll always be trash."

She turned around and stormed off. Two bodyguards followed closely behind, glancing back warily at Alice.