The Substitute Bride

Besides, Vicky would do whatever Charles asked her to do, as long as he stayed beside her and never mentioned any other woman's name.

"Hmm, I'm your good girl!" Vicky sweetly said as she looked at Charles, after throwing a tantrum at him.

"Alright, then you'd better get some sleep." A few minutes later, Vicky finally dozed off. Charles relaxed a lot, seeing Vicky asleep, as that meant he could get going.

"President Lu, the woman is really crazy. I can't handle her anymore!" David confessed to Charles, feeling completely helpless in his task. He wished Charles would assign him any job other than standing guard and interacting with this insane woman twenty-four-seven.

"David, who else do you think would be a better person to take this assignment?" Charles asked, responding to his complaint. He knew for a fact that there was no other suitable person for this task than David.

It would be devastating for him if someone like Vicky would be used by a conniving one.

David sighed, then replied, "Alright, I understand. President Lu, just forget what I've said. Please, go back home and get some rest," Staring at his boss, David could see clearly through Charles's eyes. He felt so guilty that he did not dare to continue expressing his complaint. All he had to do was to pay his due diligence and guard the assignment.

"Okay. I will come and visit again tomorrow," Charles confirmed, tapping David's left shoulder before finally leaving the room.

Actually, Charles had been busy contacting doctors overseas, hoping any one of those specialists would have a cure for Vicky. He did not plan on living this way for the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, at Sheryl's home

Clark had been in a heavy mood since Joan left. He sat on the couch, his brows furrowed as he stared at the telephone on top of the side table. Shirley, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor with a tea set laid before her. Being busy setting up her toys, she failed to realize that his brother was not in the mood to play at the moment.

"Clark, what are you thinking of?" she finally called to him, while raising her little teapot. "Please come and play with me!" Shirley waited for her brother's response, but he sat there motionless.

"I don't want to play right now. Go ahead and play by yourself," Clark answered, finally picking up the phone receiver, and deciding to call Isla. He watched as Shirley continued playing on her own.

Clark had always been more sensitive than Shirley. He was more observant, so he could easily tell there was a strange atmosphere at home today. Aside from his mother, he knew that there was no other person to ask but Isla.

The phon

ng his trust in her. Then he said, "Auntie Isla, please go upstairs and check how Mummy is doing. She's making us worried."

"Alright, then I'm going up to see her now. Why don't you play in the living room with your sister for now?" Isla suggested, looking at the two kids with tenderness.

They both nodded sweetly at her, so she walked slowly towards the staircase that led to the second floor.

Isla stood in front of Sheryl's bedroom. She had not even stepped into the room yet, but she could already feel the depressive atmosphere from behind the closed door. After taking a deep breath, Isla knocked on the door and said, "Sher, it is me!"

Isla waited but Sheryl didn't respond to her call. She came closer to the door and advised, "Sher, the two kids are worrying about you. Can you please let me in?" Isla turned back to look downstairs at the kids, worried they might be watching her now.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Sheryl stood beside it, in a woeful expression, gesturing for Isla to come in.

"What brings you here today?"

"Don't you see? I'm worried about you. How do you feel?" Isla looked at Sheryl from head to toe, realizing that Sheryl had really been asleep just now since her clothes were a bit disheveled.

"I'm alright. I had a headache a while ago, so I laid down and took a nap. What did you say about the children?" Holding back her broken heart, Sheryl forced herself to focus on the conversation with Isla.

"You locked yourself in the room. The two kids were worried about you, so Clark called me up. When are you ready to move on?" Isla was never good at comforting other people. To her, there was no point in crying over spilled milk. Since you could not change the fact of the loss, why would you bother to be depressed about it?