Chapter 42 Mandy struggled to find the right words. The continuous stream of insults thrown at them made her feel speechless and infuriated. Grace, however, calmly opened the car door and got in. "Mandy, get in," she said. Mandy followed suit, feeling dejected. Behind them, the farmers waved their brooms in celebration, as if they had rid themselves of a plague. Seeing this through the rear-view mirror, Mandy felt a surge of rage and tears welled up in her eyes.

The exhaustion from a sleepless night was evident in the middle-aged driver in the front seat, his eyes reddened from crying. The weight of the situation was overwhelming. Pouring their hearts into something, only to have it trampled on, was devastating. To make matters worse, Grace was being falsely accused of crimes she never committed. Grace sat by the window, watching the scenery blur past. The sound of their collective sobbing filled the car, making her sigh in exasperation. "Enough.

Stop crying," Grace stated firmly. But Mandy was too overwhelmed. Blowing her nose into a tissue, she struggled to express her frustration. "I'm just... I'm just so angry! I've never been treated like this in my whole life! That Alice is such a... she's vile! Can you believe it, Grace? Is this what your life in the Lambert family has been like? Everyone siding with her, no matter what? No wonder your reputation is so bad.

I can't even begin to understand." That had been Mandy's experience in the Lambert residence, but she recognized her own role in the problem. She had been too eager to please and desperate for approval, leading to the current mess. She closed her eyes, but a gentle tug at her sleeve made her open them again. "Your knee is infected. Does it hurt?" Grace asked. "It's not that bad," Grace replied. "Come on, stop crying. This isn't the end of the road. Let me think things through once we get back.

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There's always a way forward." Mandy sniffled a few more times before finally calming down. Back at the inn, Grace hurried to take a shower, washing away the metallic scent clinging to her skin. However, her knee looked worse than before-swollen and angry. Just as she was about to seek a first aid kit, there was a knock on the door. A man in a white coat stood outside. "Miss Lambert, Mr. Henderson sent me to check on your leg," he said.

Grace was surprised by his arrival and wondered how he knew about her injury. Her gaze flickered toward the closed door across the hall. She sat on the bed with a slight limp as the doctor began treating her wounds, relieving her pain. After he left, Grace took the prescribed medication for her fever. As she sat down, Ethan entered the room in his wheelchair, his expression unreadable. The room was bathed in a warm, golden-red glow as dusk settled in.

Grace instinctively protected her injured knee, feeling the lingering pain. Ethan poured her a glass of water and inquired about her well-being. Grace realized that people could endure immense hardships silently but break down at the smallest act of kindness. Ethan reassured her about the future of the project, urging her not to feel pressured. Grace firmly stated, "I haven't lost yet. I still have other options." Ethan's grip on the glass tightened slightly, his expression unreadable.

Grace's determination was captivating, and there was a fierce spark in her eyes that Ethan couldn't ignore. He sipped the water, avoiding her gaze. Grace chuckled softly. "Don't worry, Mr. Henderson won't do anything to harm you." Ethan had already turned away, composed and focused on his concerns about his company's reputation.