QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 347: Mother’s worries and big news

Chapter 348

Olga

I’m glad I ca in ti. Glad she was stopped before sothing drastic happened.

I watch the physician bandage Damien’s torso, my hands folded in my lap, my face composed. Inside, I’m trembling. But no one needs to see that.

Once the bandage is secure, Damien stands. He doesn’t look at . Doesn’t say a word. Just walks out, slamming the door behind him.

I exhale.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Brown." My voice is steady.

"No problem. It’s my job, Madam Han." He packs his equipnt carefully—the gauze, the antiseptic, the small vials of blood he collected from Vivienne.

She’s sedated now. They had to sedate her. She was a screaming ss when they carried her upstairs, still reaching for the knife, still shouting things I’m trying very hard to forget.

I walk toward the doctor.

"Dr. Brown." I keep my voice low. "How long have we known each other?"

His eyes dart around the room. It’s just the two of us now,the servants have been dismissed, the physician’s assistant is waiting outside.

"Thirty years." He chuckles nervously, adjusting his bag.

"Then you must understand." I et his eyes. "I want this to be discreet."

"Of course. I wouldn’t—" He stops. Looks at . Realization dawns.

"Yes." I nod slowly. "My daughter-in-law’s blood test results. Only ."

He swallows. Nods.

"Understood, Madam Han."

He leaves. The door clicks shut.

I stand alone in the quiet room, staring at nothing.

I hope I’m wrong.

The thought echoes.

I really, really hope I’m wrong.

*

I sit in the back seat of the car, staring at the results. The paper doesn’t change, no matter how long I look at it.

She’s pregnant.

I close my eyes and lean against the leather seat.

What now?

I tuck the docunts into my purse and motion for the driver to go ho.

I head up the stairs straight to Vivienne’s room. She’s not there. I have a feeling I know exactly where she is.

I walk out, shutting the door behind , and head to Daphne’s room. I open it. Empty. I close the door.

Then I click the lock.

I walk toward the wardrobe. There’s only one place you’d find a pregnant Oga hiding.

And as expected, in the corner, curled in a pile of her daughter’s clothes in the fetal position, is my daughter-in-law.

Looking at her, all the anger and scolding I prepared,fades away.

She looks so small. So young. So broken.

I pull out my phone and text the one I should be angry at. The one who did this.

Just then, Vivienne stirs awake. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then sharp with fear when she sees .

"Olga?" Her voice is hoarse and fragile.

I don’t speak. I can’t.

"I... I..." She swallows. "This is..."

She looks around at the clothes surrounding her, at Daphne’s room, at kneeling on the floor in front of her.

"...not what it looks like." Her voice cracks. She curls into herself, making herself smaller, as if she can disappear.

It tears apart,I get on my knees, reach out, and pull her into a hug.

She flinches,a full-body wince, like she expected to hit her.Then she hugs back. Her arms wrap around my waist, her face presses into my shoulder, and she starts to cry.

"It’s okay." I rub her back, slow circles, the way I used to when my children were small. "It’s okay."

*

I remove my robe and get into bed. One thing I’m grateful for is the massive bed in the master bedroom of the Han mansion—it would take enormous effort for us to feel each other’s body heat. I move the outer blanket and settle in, a routine I’ve had for decades.

"So." Bernard’s voice cuts through the dark. "What’s wrong with her?"

I exhale. "I’m tired, Bernard."

"It’s not sothing ntal, is it?" He doesn’t let it go. "Surely not. Imagine what a scandal that would be. Can’t believe she was swinging a knife at my son."

I ignore him.

"Stress." He says it like it’s a joke. "She was stressed?"

"Yes." I turn away from him, facing the wall.

"Are you sure it’s not a ntal thing?" He says a bad attempt at a joke or sothing.

These past few years, he’s been attempting to build a bridge across the distance between us. A joke here. A comnt there. An attempt at normalcy.

But it’s too late now.

Years of cheating. Years of emotional neglect. Years of watching him dismiss , diminish , use . Those wounds don’t just fade.

Now I’m only living for my children.

And I suppose... my grandchild now.

I ignore him and close my eyes.

Eventually, I hear him shuffle. The bed shifts. His breathing slows.

When I feel his breathing even out, I release a sigh of relief.

I go to sleep soon after.

***

Daphne

Olga texted :

Sothing is wrong with Vivienne.

I didn’t ask questions. I just moved. The nearest flight back, a car waiting at the airport, my phone clutched in my hand the whole ti. I tried calling Vivienne—no answer. Tried calling Olga—no answer.

I hope it’s nothing serious.

When I’m almost ho, a new text cos through. An address. I tell the driver to change direction imdiately.

I’m jet-lagged, exhausted, running on adrenaline and anxiety.

The driver pulls up to a restaurant—one of those Japanese-style ones. The very expensive kind. The kind with private rooms and sliding doors and waitstaff who bow when you enter.

I walk in.

"Do you have a reservation?"

"I’m here for Olga Han."

"Of course. This way."

I follow him through a maze of hallways, past paper screens and soft lighting, until he stops at a door. Slides it open.

Olga and Vivienne are inside.

They both look up at .

Vivienne’s eyes are red. Her face is puffy. She’s been crying.

I step inside. Slide the door closed behind .

"Viv?" My voice cos out cautious.

She doesn’t look at . Just stares at her hands, folded in her lap.

I move the cushion and sit cross-legged across from them. The silence is suffocating. No one speaks. No one moves.

Finally, Olga stands.

"I should give you so privacy."

She leaves.

Vivienne is still staring at her hands.

I stand, move to sit beside her. Close enough to touch.

"Viv?" I wrap an arm around her shoulders. "What’s going on? What’s wrong?"

She doesn’t move.

I wait.

Then she hiccups.

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." I use my other hand to lift her chin, make her look at .

Oh no.

Her eyes are red. Swollen. She’s been crying for hours.

"It’s okay." I wipe a tear from her cheek. "I’m here now."

She starts crying harder. Her whole body shakes with it.

"It’s okay." I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what’s wrong. "It’s fine. I’m here."

She throws herself into my arms. I catch her, hold her, press my face into her hair.

I’m confused. Worried. Terrified, if I’m being honest because what the fuck is going on.

"I’m pregnant."