?Chapter 1537:


    Dominic paused, then let out a heartyugh—the relief of one who had escaped death woven through every note of it. “Yes. That’s right. Fate truly has a sense of humor. Who could have imagined that the doctor who saved my life was my own granddaughter?”


    He stepped closer and took Maia’s hand. His grip was warm and steady, the skin rough with calluses forged by decades of holding a rifle. “Come inside. Sit down. Let me look at you properly.”


    Maia didn’t pull her hand away. The warmth felt real and grounding.


    “Are you truly my grandfather?” she asked. “Can you tell me about my parents? I want to know who they were.”


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    Dominic’s movements faltered at her words, his gaze sliding aside. Maia caught the change at once. From the discreet guards surrounding him, she had already guessed he was a man of high military rank. Yet if that was true, why had her parents lived in a slum?


    Sensing her scrutiny, Dominic released a long breath. He shut his eyes, as though the full weight of years had suddenly pressed down upon him—then sighed again, deeply.


    “Alright. You deserve the truth.”


    He opened his eyes, sorrow heavy in his voice. “Back then, I failed your mother. I owe her an apology. One I can never repay.”


    Dominic’s emotions slipped beyond his control. Though he struggled to restrain himself, the spine that had never bent on any battlefield now carried an invisible weight, curving slightly. His chest rose and fell unevenly, breath rough andbored, as if unseen hands were wing at a heart long scarred by regret.


    He opened his mouth to speak, yet only a dry, broken sound escaped. After several seconds, his gaze drifted past Maia and fixed on an empty distance, eyes hollow. In that moment, the once-formidable old man seemed dragged by time itself back to a rain-soaked night that had haunted him for decades.


    “Maia,” he finally said, after a long silence.


    His voice was hoarse and frayed, worn thin by years of words left unsaid. “What I’m about to tell you—” He faltered, his Adam’s apple working with effort. “I’ve buried it in my heart for more than twenty years.” Each syble felt torn from somewhere deep within his chest.


    Dominic lowered his gaze, concealing the tears gathering in his eyes. In that instant, he was no longer a revered general—only a remorseful father.


    “Sadly…” His voice sank to a whisper. “Your mother will never hear it again.”


    With those words, thest of his hardenedposure finally crumbled. He lifted his hand and roughly scrubbed at his face with calloused fingers, wiping away the tears. The movement was clumsy,cking any grace. Under the dim light, the scars and rough skin on his hand stood out sharply, his knuckles whitening as he pressed too hard.


    Maia watched in silence, neither speaking nor interrupting. She looked at the old man standing before her—already nearing the end of his years, gray at his temples, a faint tremor in his shoulders—and saw himid bare in rare fragility, like a child caught unguarded.


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