Her Revenge From Shadow to Sunlight novel Chapter 162

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Blood dripped from Eleanor’s palm, each drop slowly spreading on the floor, forming what looked like blooming flowers.

Hearing a noise, she turned back with a bright smile, her eyes full of excitement. “Theodore, look! I can draw again. Isn’t my painting beautiful?”

Theodore, horrified, stared at the blood on her hand and the floor. His whole body was trembling in fear.

“Eleanor, why do you keep hurting yourself like this? And why are you doing this to me?” Theodor said, his voice shaking.

He pulled her into his arms. “Why are you hurting your hand again? Is painting really that important to you? Do you really have to draw?”

Eleanor nodded. “I have to paint. I just do. What else is left for me? You tell me what else can I even do? I mess up everything, I couldn’t even protect my own child.”

Theodore hugged her tighter. “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, and my family’s fault too. If you’re really hurting, then hit me, okay? Just take it out on me.”

He grabbed her hand and made her slap him hard, blood streaking across his face in an instant.

Eleanor stared at his face and gently touched his cheek. “Your parents said that kid wasn’t yours. Why would they say that? That was obviously our child. They abandoned our baby.”

Theodore closed his eyes, pain twisting deep inside him. Years ago, his family had wronged Eleanor, and the child really wasn’t his.

What Eleanor never knew was that his own family had set her up and pushed her into a one–night stand with a total stranger.

All these years, Theodore had tried to make up for it, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that he wasn’t the one with her that night.

He’d even dreamed of having another child with her, hoping maybe it could help her let go of the pain. But ever since they lost the baby, Eleanor never let him get close.

He hadn’t wanted to search for their child, but seeing how much Eleanor yearned for the baby, he had no choice but to say, “Eleanor, I think I might have found our child.”

Every time Theodore said “our child,” it felt like a stab to the heart. The pain of knowing that the woman he loved had been with another man, bearing his child, was unbearable.

But Theodore loved her–truly. He couldn’t stand watching her continue to tear herself apart like this. Maybe, just maybe, that child was the only thing that could pull her back from the brink.

Eleanor was stunned for a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “What? What did you say?”

Theodore gripped her hand tightly, unable to hide his excitement. He quickly wiped away the blood with a

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Chapter 169

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rice and bandaged her wound as he spoke, “I went to Meridia for work last week, and while I was in an art gallery there, I saw a painting

“It was the blanket you made for our child. The gallery owner said someone had left it to be displayed, not for sale, so I couldn’t bring it back.

“But I asked him to help me contact whoever put the painting there, and left my number. He promised he’d pass my info to the person who brought the painting in.

Once her hand was bandaged. Theodore quickly fished out his phone and showed Eleanor the photo he’d taken of the painting.

Eleanor’s eyes flew wide open as she saw the picture, hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone.

Her lips were quivering as she spoke, “Yes, that’s it! I chose the fabric myself, and I painted every detail by hand. I used the safest and most long–lasting paints, and look—after all these years, the colors are still so bright.”

Her hand, still wrapped in bandages, gently touched the screen. She couldn’t hold back the tears as she whispered. “We found our child. Our kid is really alive.”

Theodore nodded firmly. “That’s right. So for our kid–please, Eleanor, take care of yourself. Promise me you won’t ever hurt yourself again, okay?”

“Didn’t the gallery owner get the seller’s contact info?” Eleanor asked, her voice trembling with hope. “You didn’t get it either?”

Theodore shook his head. “No, the gallery owner got the painting through some art–selling app. Everyone just uses a username, and the app keeps things totally anonymous–nobody knows anyone’s real info.”

“Then hurry up and call the gallery owner. Ask if that seller ever tried to contact him,” Eleanor blurted out, almost frantic.

Theodore hesitated, looking a bit awkward. “Well, I don’t have the gallery owner’s contact info either.”

Eleanor bit her lip, then said, “Get me a ticket. I’m flying to Meridia to talk to the gallery owner myself.”

Theodore looked shocked. There’s no need for that–I’ve already left my contact info. If anything happens, the gallery owner will reach out to me.”

“But what if he forgets? Why didn’t you get his number?” Eleanor snapped, her voice rising with anger. “This is our kid we’re talking about! How could you not take this seriously?”

Theodore, torn by the situation, thought back to the conflict he had felt when he first saw the painting in Meridia. Part of him wanted to make things right, to help Eleanor find her child.

But another part of him wasn’t sure he wanted to. The child’s biological father was still unknown—he didn’t want to risk the child’s father showing up and causing even more pain for Eleanor.

So, at the time, Theodore decided to let the child have the choice. If someone reached out to them and they truly found Eleanor’s kid, he’d accept it and treat that child like his own from then onward.

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If there was never any contact, then fine–he’d just spend his life caring for Eleanor alone. That was why Theodore didn’t ask for the gallery owner’s contact information.

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