My Husband Is a Gary Stu

While chopping carrots, Genevieve accidentally cut her left finger with the chopper. A drop of blood immediately welled up. Upon
seeing this, Scarlette handed her a handkerchief.
Genevieve swiftly wrapped the handkerchief around her wound.
The handkerchief Scarlette gave was light yellow, but it didn't take long for the blood from the wound to soak it red.
Once Gracie hurriedly brought iodine solution and gauze, Genevieve unwrapped the handkerchief. Upon seeing that the wound
wasn't bleeding, she breathed a sigh of relief and asked Gracie to help dress her wound with gauze.
Scarlette asked, “The handkerchief is dirty. Would you like me to throw it away for you?”
“No, you're cooking. It'll be bad if your hands are contaminated with bacteria,” Genevieve declined, putting the handkerchief into
her down jacket pocket.
“All right.” Scarlette turned around and continued what she was doing.
After bustling about for over two hours, lunch was finally ready.
It was quite cold outside since it was a couple of degrees below zero today. Gracie arranged for the children to bring their lunch
boxes to the kitchen to get their food.
After the children finished taking their food, the photographers and the field reporters also took a break from their work to have
lunch.
The pervasive smell of cooking oil in the kitchen had long since become unbearable for Scarlette. After she knew she no longer
needed to face the camera, she asked a teacher for directions to the restroom and left the kitchen.
As Scarlette headed toward the public restroom, she coincidentally ran into two teachers. They were holding lunch boxes,
seemingly on their way to the kitchen to eat.

The two teachers were chatting quietly as they walked.
One of the teachers said regretfully, “Such a beautiful kid. It's a pity to fall ill right after birth and get abandoned by parents at the
orphanage's doorstep.”
“Which child here hasn't been abandoned by their parents?” the other teacher said.
The orphanage once bluntly called an orphan's asylum, initially took care of children who had lost both parents on behalf of the
government. As the number of orphans they took in increased, they started making the news, attracting more attention.
The mothers who unexpectedly gave birth to children with illnesses, and detested the idea of raising them, would secretly leave
their children at the orphanage's doorstep.
The orphanage was like the final haven for orphans.
Scarlette had no desire to learn about the tragic backgrounds of the children in the orphanage. She merely listened to them
briefly. Then brushed past the teachers and headed into the restroom.
The smell of cooking oil clanged to her body and hair. Even perfume couldn't mask it. It was unbearably unpleasant to her.
Scarlette washed her hands ten times with soap. After her hands were completely odorless, she dried them with a paper towel.
Just then, her phone, which was in her pocket, rang.
After she almost got overheard by Charlotte while making a call in the company's restroom previously, Scarlette didn't rush to
answer the phone this time. Instead, she left the restroom and headed to the children's playground.
Once she was sure no one was around her, she answered the phone, “I had a chance earlier, but I failed to get it.”
“A chance for what?” The person calling her was Zander.
Scarlette held her phone to her ear, lighting a cigarette she had pulled from her pocket. “Genevieve accidentally cut her finger
while chopping vegetables in the kitchen. I gave her a handkerchief to stop the bleeding, but she didn't return it.”

Zander said, “Now that you mention it, I realize Armand seems really concerned about Genevieve's bleeding.”
Previously, Zander had a conversation with Scarlette at the golf course, but he didn't recall it then. Only now did he remember.
“A finger cut heals quickly.” Scarlette took a drag from her cigarette and continued, “Armand's fear of Genevieve getting hurt, and
Genevieve's reluctance to casually discard the handkerchief stained with her blood, only implies that her health is not good.”
“Hemophilia.” Zander thought of this disease, then rubbed his brows in distress.
If Genevieve had hemophilia, she couldn't afford to bleed. It was no wonder Genevieve was so cautious, carefully preserving the
handkerchief stained with her blood.
She was scared that if someone with discerning eyes discovered her poor health, it would bring about unnecessary trouble.