"So, you're surprised to see me awake? Disappointed?"
Yara Ross's expression faltered. "Harold, what are you talking about? I'm overjoyed that you're awake."
"Is that so?" Harold Bishop sneered, a sarcastic smirk on his lips.
"Of course it is, Harold. Don't you know what kind of person I am? I've been dreaming of the day you'd wake up."
Harold Bishop pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. He looked at Yara Ross and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Heh, Yara Ross, we've been married for many years. I thought I knew you well, but now… I really don't know what kind of person you are." All those years he was in a coma, his mind had been clear. He knew every single thing Yara Ross had said and done.
He didn't care how Yara Ross had treated him—that was the punishment he deserved as the failed head of the family. But his precious daughter shouldn't have had to suffer.
