?Chapter 1367:


    Wary of crossing paths with her father, Elissa chose not to linger near the operating room. Instead, she retreated to the hospital’s first-floor lobby, where Ernest remained by her side.


    “Here,” he said, offering her a bottle of water he had bought from a nearby vending machine.


    “Thank you,” Elissa murmured, her fingers wrapping around the cool stic. She twisted the cap open slowly, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Flynn. I… I can’t thank you enough.”


    “Elissa.” Ernest turned to her, his gaze warm yet piercing, as if seeing straight through to her heart. “I know your mind is elsewhere right now, and this might not be the perfect moment. But I need you to know—I want to be there for you, to care for you, in every way that matters. I mean it.”


    Elissa froze, her breath catching. His words, so unexpected yet sincere, hung in the air, leaving her heart racing and her thoughts in disarray.


    “Just rx.” Ernest offered a quiet, reassuring smile. “I’m not saying this to push you into an answer.”


    Since his grandmother’s hospitalization, he hadn’t been able to reach Elissa. He’d longed to speak with her—needed that connection—but the chance never came.


    “I just want you to know where I stand. This isn’t some passing whim. I’m not toying with your feelings, and I’m certainly not flirting for the sake of it. I’m serious about building something real with you.” He paused, letting the honesty of his words settle between them before adding, “As for my grandmother… she won’t decide this for me. And just because she’s against it now doesn’t mean that won’t change.” After all, Elissa was Locke’s mother.


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    If Locke ever truly needed his mother, his grandmother would bend. For him.


    Elissa stayed quiet, her expression unreadable—but her heart was racing.


    “I’ll stop there,” Ernest said softly, stepping back to give her room to breathe. “For now, your grandfather’s surgery is what matters most.” Ernest’s voice was low, steady—a quiet anchor in the storm. “I’ll stay with you—however long it takes.”


    Elissa gave a small nod, her features unreadable.


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    “By the way…” Sensing her spiraling thoughts, Ernest shifted gears, his tone lightening just enough to offer a soft distraction. “You’re not very close to your family, are you?”


    “No, we’re not close,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “They…”


    He paused, concern knitting his brow. “They haven’t exactly been kind to you, have they?”


    “Not really,” she replied, her lips tightening. “I was never close to my father. And over time, whatever thread of connection we had just unraveled. When we do see each other, it’s all stiff smiles and empty words—like we’re actors reading from the wrong script.”


    But the truth ran deeper. It was the scandal that cast the longest shadow.


    To them, she was a blemish—a walking disgrace. Every encounter turned into a courtroom, with Becker and the others ying judge and jury.


    They never missed a chance to remind her that she should be grateful Robin hadn’t discarded her after what happened. No matter how cold or cruel he became, she was expected to endure it, to repent, to serve penance simply for being chosen by him at all.


    Eventually, she stopped showing up. She stopped exining. She stopped caring.


    Ernest, as perceptive as ever, had already read between the lines.


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