"You guessed right. I'm sick. Very sick. So sick that I can't even have children. The reason I refused to have a second child with Sebastian to save Noah was because I'm sick. I can't. I'm not able to."
She paused, her voice low but steady. "And I'll tell you something else. I was diagnosed over a year ago, while I was still in prison. I submitted numerous applications for medical release, but they were all rejected. I couldn't get treatment. It went on for so long that the doctors finally told me it was terminal."
"And then, before I could die, you all got me out. The funny thing is, you used medical parole as the excuse. Isn't that hilarious? I was actually sick, but I couldn't get out. You slap on a fake excuse, and suddenly I'm free. You were even able to arrange for me to go abroad for Noah's treatment. You all have such incredible power. But you never imagined I was actually sick, did you?"
Lillian looked at him, her eyes empty of emotion. "Brandon, do you have any idea how it felt, the day I got out of prison, to see your perfect little family together? Do you know what it felt like when Sebastian dragged me to a hotel room to try and force me to have another child? You don't, do you? It doesn't matter. By some grace of God, I'm not going to die."
"But I am very weak right now. I'm going upstairs to rest. If you want me to die, you can keep making a scene. Of course, if you want more people to pity me, feel free to tell them I'm sick."
With that, Lillian left Brandon sitting there and went upstairs.
Brandon remained on the sofa, completely stunned, unable to process what she had just said.
It was true, Lillian did look frail and sickly. Her voice was weaker than before, her face pale and drained of color, like someone who had been ill for a long time. He had noticed it before and even asked her about it. He just never thought it was real.

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