Chapter 1377:


    “Everyone, please remain calm! We’ll have the power restored in about five minutes!” the host called out, his voice straining to keep the growing panic under control.


    “Why is the power cutting out again?”


    “That sound earlier—was it the electrical system blowing out?”


    “No… it felt more like something exploded.”


    Through the chaos, Maia kept herposure, fully aware that Pattie and the others were close behind her, even in the pitch-ck hall.


    Facing the direction of their voices, Maia said, “Stay back. Whoever is behind this is after me, not you.”


    “Maia…” Pattie tried to step toward her, worry thick in her tone, but she stopped when strong hands restrained her.


    Rnd’s low voice rumbled from behind. “Do as Maia says. Don’t rush toward her without thinking.”


    Shadows clung to the corners, yet a pair of eyes tracked Maia’s every move.


    Jarrod lingered in the hall, though he seemed to have left. He hungered for the moment Maia’s life would falter.


    He had settled into the shadows. From that hidden vantage, every step Maia took was visible.


    Even the darkness could not hide her from him. The faint shimmer of her clothes betrayed her location.


    A gentle glow radiated from Maia’s form, subtle enough to seem idental. Most would call it just a trick of the fabric, unaware it was a deliberate trap.


    Revenge hovered just within reach. Every detail had unfolded perfectly, and yet triumph refused to stir.


    An unfamiliar hollowness rose in Jarrod’s chest. In ce of victory, an odd emptiness filled him, gnawing silently.


    No one knew better than Jarrod that the Morgan family was a phantom, its former glory forever beyond reach, even if Maia’s blood soaked the earth. And his parents, locked in their silentas, would never open their eyes again.


    Your imagination begins with gα?ησν????s﹒?????


    Yet it was precisely his hatred that had kept him going all this time, like fuel feeding a raging fire. His mind spun with thoughts, calctions, and doubts—a storm of emotion in the darkness.


    He was acutely aware that in the shadows, Cohen was steadily closing in on Maia.


    Death hovered nearby.


    At that moment, the buzzing of a phone cut through the tension.


    Jarrod’s phone vibrated violently. He yanked it out and froze as he saw the caller ID.


    It was the number from the hospital’s duty room.


    Could something have happened to his parents?


    “Hello… this is Jarrod Morgan,” he said, his voice low, cautious.


    The nurse’s voice came, brimming with excitement. “Mr. Morgan, you need toe to the hospital immediately.”


    Jarrod’s fingers shook. “What… what happened?” he asked nervously.


    “Your father, Richard Morgan, has regained consciousness. He just woke up.”


    .


    .


    .