Revenge on My Scheming Sister (Felicia) novel Chapter 5

During morning rounds, the nurse asked, “Has the postpartum lochia been expelled today?”

Emma quickly replied, “Yes, yes, she did.”

She’d secretly studied Felicia’s technique earlier, learning tricks to ease the process. “Maybe that’ll earn me a raise with future clients,” she thought.

Felicia didn’t mind sharing tips, even teaching Emma key points.

Felicia treated Emma sincerely, and Emma would care better for Mina.

Wasn’t the simplest rule of human connection to treat others as one wanted to be treated?

The doctor nodded approvingly. “Keep it up. It’s painful but beneficial.”

Outside the room, he remarked to the nurse, “Which agency is that nanny from? We should recommend her.”

They assumed the nanny handled the drainage, as most new mothers complained bitterly about the pain.

The head nurse checked the records. “Home of Love’s postpartum care service.”

They hadn’t heard other mothers praise Emma.

The hospital cafeteria meals lacked nutrition. Emma fretted, “Mrs. Lucero, you can’t eat this during recovery!”

She heard Felicia’s husband say he would come today. But he still didn’t show up.

Felicia handed her a number. “Don’t worry. Meals will be delivered.”

She showed Emma a menu.

“Oh, this looks perfect! Is this a specialized postpartum meal service?”

The balanced dishes resembled those from high-end maternity centers.

Felicia sipped water. “A friend’s hotel handles it.”

Emma nodded, unfazed. She thought, “Mrs. Lucero clearly comes from wealth; it hardly seems odd that she knows a few hotel owners.”

The Lucero’s place.

They’d returned home late last night, so the staff only learned of Felicia’s delivery that morning.

Between making breakfast for Ambrose and preparing postpartum meals for Felicia, everything spiraled into chaos.

“Dad, this egg tastes gross!”

Ambrose had always eaten meals cooked by Felicia.

Due to his severe allergies, only she remembered all his dietary restrictions.

Once, a nanny added crushed peanuts to his food. Three-year-old Ambrose nearly choked.

After that, Felicia banned anyone from touching his meals, even at 39 weeks pregnant.

Seymour frowned slightly. “Where’s Bettie?”

Bettie wiped the sweat from her forehead, panicking. “Mr. Lucero, your son likes Mrs. Lucero’s steamed egg pudding. I can’t replicate her recipe!”

“How hard can steamed eggs be?” Seymour scoffed. “Call her. Ask her.”

He never imagined Felicia’s absence would stump them over eggs.

If word got out, the Lucero family would be mocked for lacking competent staff.

Ambrose pouted. “Dad, what do I eat now?”

“Egg custard. And stop being picky.”

Though the child had severe allergies, he was undeniably picky. That was why Felicia went out of her way to make meals he liked.

Ambrose sullenly put down his fork. “Humph! I won’t eat then!”

Yvonne coaxed, “Ambi, at least drink your milk!”

“No! No! No!” The stubborn child ran back to his room.

Seeing her grandson skip breakfast, Yvonne fretted. “Ambi, this child…”

Seymour said coldly, “Let him go hungry. Skipping one meal won’t starve him.”

His son was becoming spoiled beyond limits.

But Yvonne worried. “Sey, you’re too harsh on Ambi sometimes. I’ve watched him grow up.”

“Mom, he’s five now. No more coddling.”

He calmly wiped his mouth and stood to leave for the hospital.

As he put on his coat, his phone rang.

“What? Mabel fell down the stairs?”

Seymour grabbed his coat. “Mom, go check on Felicia. I’m heading to the Pruitt’s place. Mabel’s in trouble!”

“Go ahead. Don’t worry about Felicia!”

Emma checked the clock. It was 10 AM, and Felicia’s husband still hadn’t arrived.

How heartless he was to abandon his own daughter.

“Mina, it’s Mama.”

“Giggle.”

Felicia smiled at her daughter’s crescent-shaped eyes, her mood lifting.

“Emma, look! Mina’s responding to me!”

Emma chuckled. “She’s your sunshine. Never cries and always smiles. The easiest baby I’ve ever cared for.”

“Mina loves her mama.”

Felicia’s world now revolved entirely around her daughter.

She said to Emma, “Emma, I’ll walk down the hallway for a bit.”

“Mrs. Lucero, is your incision not hurting anymore?”

“Not much. Moving around helps recovery.” Felicia shook her head.

As she stepped out, the head nurse greeted her warmly. “Ms. Pruitt, you seem to be recovering well!”

Felicia smiled. “It is. Thanks to Dr. Welch and all of you, the surgery went smoothly.”

News of Felicia delivering alone had spread through the department.

Passing nurses cast her sympathetic glances.

Felicia ignored their stares, slowly walking along the wall.

Suddenly, Connor, who had performed her surgery, rushed to the director at the station. “Prof. Galvan is here! He and the dean just entered the elevator. They’ll be here any minute!”

The director tensed. “Which Prof. Galvan?”

“Prof. Eugene Galvan from Brookdale Hospital!”

At the name, the director stiffened.

Eugene Galvan wasn’t just a renowned physician at Brookdale Hospital. He led a national key laboratory.

His students were all top-tier talents, each capable of heading departments at top-tier hospitals.

“Why is he coming to our gynecology and obstetrics department?”

Wasn’t he oncology’s top expert?

Felicia’s brow twitched. As she turned to retreat to her room, a booming voice roared behind her. “Felicia! Don’t you dare run!”

She forced a bitter smile, facing the elderly man she hadn’t seen in five years. “Prof. Galvan … long time no see.”