Yara Quincy looked pale and somewhat haggard.
The moment she saw Claire Sinclair, her expression darkened. But she didn't say a word about causing the miscarriage. Instead, she looked up at her brother. "Brother, Grandpa just fell asleep."
Adrian Quincy's eyes narrowed, his tone icy. "What are you doing here?"
"I have antral gastritis, and the doctors found a few polyps in my stomach. They need to be removed with minimally invasive surgery. Brother, don't worry. I didn't pull any strings to get here. I didn't even know they'd brought me over until I woke up. I only came to check on Grandpa after I heard he was gravely ill."
After she spoke, Yara Quincy jutted her chin toward the prison guards standing watch in the hallway. "See? They're watching my every move. I'm missing a leg. I'm not going to run away."
As she said this, she couldn't contain her resentment. She clenched her jaw, her gaze fixed venomously on Claire Sinclair.
'It's all this bitch's fault!'
