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Novel Catalog
Chapter 30
A few days ago, Veronica had been watching a drama series when a scene caught her attention. The female lead, unaware of the consequences, nearly miscarried after consuming motherwort. The thought lingered in Veronica’s mind—motherwort was a medication that could be easily bought from pharmacies. She knew it could potentially induce a miscarriage, but she had no idea how dangerous it could be if used improperly.
Determined, Veronica quickly turned to her delivery group chat. “Does anyone have a drone?” she typed out.
A delivery guy named Bells responded almost immediately. “I have one. What’s up?”
After adding him as a friend, she dialed his number. “Hey, sorry for the trouble, but can you buy two boxes of motherwort from a pharmacy for me? I’ll send you the address afterward. And, um, is it okay if you deliver it using a drone?”
He sounded puzzled. “Why do I need to use a drone?”
Veronica hesitated, scrambling for an excuse. “I just wanted to experience drone delivery. I’ll transfer you 300. Can you get it to me quickly?”
“Sure, no problem,” Bells agreed.
After hanging up, Veronica sent him her address, and within half an hour, he called again to let her know he was downstairs. She rushed to the window and peered outside, where she saw him skillfully maneuvering the drone toward her.
The buzzing drone slowly ascended until it hovered right outside her window. She took the package, thanked him via voice message, and watched as the drone flew back into the night.
Alone in her apartment, Veronica eagerly tore open one of the boxes. Inside were four blister packs of motherwort pills—each containing twelve pills. She quickly did the math. She knew she needed at least three to five pills per dose, but if she took too few, it wouldn’t have the desired effect. If she took too many, though… well, she didn’t want to think about the consequences.
A cold, creeping fear began to settle in as she stared at the pills. She was already under house arrest by Matthew and had no way out unless she moved into the Kings Residence. She had no choice now.
Taking a deep breath, Veronica hesitated, but her hand trembled as she removed 24 pills and poured herself a glass of warm water. Her heart pounded as she gritted her teeth, nerving herself. Finally, with a sharp exhale, she swallowed the pills, breaking them into six rounds.
The thick, bitter taste of the medication immediately made her stomach churn, and no amount of water seemed to wash it away. She lay down on the couch, her body quaking with anxiety as she waited for the pills to take effect.
At first, it was just nausea. But soon, her stomach began to ache, and she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Sweat broke out on her forehead as the pain intensified. Still, there was no bleeding, no immediate sign that the miscarriage had started. She could only wait, hoping that what she had done would work.
Meanwhile, at Dragon’s Creek Villa, Matthew had just returned from his engagement dinner with Tiffany. He was a man of few words, but even Tiffany, trying her best to maintain composure, couldn’t hide the question that had been on her mind for a while.
“Matthew,” she said softly, “Why do you still drop me home, even after we’re engaged?”
He looked at her with a calm, disinterested gaze. “Before we’re married, it’s better we live apart. It’s for your own good, too, since you’re a woman.”
Tiffany’s stomach twisted at his words. Despite their engagement, she knew how little he cared for her. She was just a suitable match for him, nothing more. Yet, when he patted her head gently and told her to rest, her heart fluttered. Just a hint of tenderness from him was enough to keep her satisfied.
“Goodnight, Matthew,” she murmured, climbing out of the car, but not before casting one final, hopeful look toward him, waiting for a kiss. He gave her nothing more than a polite nod, his eyes distant.
“Goodnight,” he replied.
Just as Tiffany turned to walk away, Matthew’s driver, Thomas, cleared his throat and spoke up. “Young Master Matthew, the man who’s been monitoring Miss Murphy’s phone just called. He said she ordered something called motherwort, and it was delivered via drone.”
Matthew’s brow furrowed immediately. “It was delivered by drone?”
“Yes,” Thomas confirmed. “It was a little over an hour ago, but I didn’t have the chance to inform you earlier.”
Matthew’s unease spiked. “How long has it been since she received the delivery?”
“A little more than an hour,” Thomas repeated.
Matthew’s expression darkened. “Head to Brocade Gardens.”
Without another word, Thomas started the car, speeding down the quiet streets of Bloomstead. Matthew’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
“Drive faster,” he ordered, his voice clipped.
As the car sped toward Brocade Gardens, Matthew muttered to himself, “As long as she’s not married into the Kings Family, she’s not Mrs. Kings.”
Thomas, understanding his meaning, nodded quietly. “Got it.”
In half an hour, they arrived at Brocade Gardens. They quickly entered the building and made their way to the eighth floor, where Matthew’s six bodyguards were waiting outside Veronica’s door. Upon seeing him, they straightened, greeting him with respect.
“Young Master Matthew,” they said in unison.
Without a word, Matthew walked toward Veronica’s door and knocked sharply. “Open the door,” he ordered.
Inside, Veronica lay curled up on the couch, clutching her abdomen in excruciating pain. She had already started to bleed, her body wracked with discomfort. Ten minutes earlier, she had called the emergency number, desperately waiting for help to arrive.
When she heard the knocking at the door, she briefly thought it was the paramedics. But as she tried to get up, her body refused to cooperate. She collapsed back onto the couch, unable to move.
The knocks outside the door grew more urgent.
“Veronica Murphy,” Matthew called, his voice now tinged with impatience and worry. “Open the door, or I’ll kick it open!”
Still, there was no response from inside. Frustrated, Matthew stepped back and kicked the door with all his strength. It flew open with a loud crash.
Inside, he found her—pale, sweating, and clutching her abdomen in agony. The couch beneath her was stained with blood, a horrifying sight. He quickly scanned the room and saw the packaging for the motherwort, its bold letters clearly marked on the box.
His stomach sank as he picked it up, reading the words: Forbidden for pregnant women.
His eyes narrowed in fury. “Damn it,” he muttered, clenching the box so tightly that it crushed in his hand.
He turned to Veronica, his voice cold. “You took all of them?”
Veronica’s only response was a pained groan, her face contorted in agony.
Matthew’s expression twisted with anger and concern. This woman, he thought, has no regard for her own life just because she doesn’t want to have my child.
Behind him, Thomas quickly pulled out his phone, dialing the emergency number. Before he could make the call, the sound of ambulance sirens echoed from downstairs.
Veronica, still clutching her abdomen, tried to move, but her body betrayed her. She reached out, trying to lift herself off the couch, but her arm gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud.
Matthew’s heart pounded as he looked down at her. The urgency of the situation was sinking in. She had taken the pills, and now, it was a race against time to save her.
