?Chapter 1289:


    Terrence paused for a long moment before saying, “I won’t let anyone hurt her, and that includes you.”


    When Terrence finished, the man in the wheelchair didn’t move or speak.


    Then, after a tense silence, the man finally moved.


    The man in the wheelchair turned his head and fixed Terrence with a stare. A thin pool of light skimmed his features, exposing something that made the blood run cold.


    Fire had twisted his face into a grotesque map of scars, and the room’s deep shadows made it look even more monstrous. Rage warped his expression as he snatched a ss from the table and hurled it at Terrence without a second thought. The ss smashed against Terrence’s knee, forcing him to drop to one knee and brace himself with the other hand.


    The sharp crack of breaking ss screamed in his ears. Tiny slivers nicked his cheek, leaving thin tracks of blood in their wake.


    “You dare defy me for a woman! If I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d have been dead ages ago!” The man’s voice was ragged,ced with frantic anger.


    A violent coughing fit seized him, wracking his body uncontrobly.


    Terrence, rmed, scrambled up and hobbled over, moving quickly. He found the old man’s usual meds and offered them with practiced hands. But the old man swatted the pill away in fury, sending it skittering to the floor.


    The coughing only got worse.


    Terrence kept his calm; he popped another pill and gently forced it into the old man’s mouth.


    In the next beat, the pill was spat out.


    The old man’s hacking eased a touch; his face flushed as he fought for breath, then rasped, “Promise me, kill her.” Those four words wed out of him, each one ailing and forced.


    Terrence said nothing; he just reached for another pill and pressed it into the old man’s mouth.


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    For every pill the old man expelled, Terrence offered another—methodical, patient, silently unyielding. There was no irritation in his movements, no answer in his voice.


    His steady actions were reply enough, a resolve that wouldn’t bend.


    “She doesn’t like you,” the old man blurted suddenly.


    The words froze Terrence mid-motion. A flicker of raw loss and stubborn refusal crossed his otherwise impassive face. Those words struck him like a de, searing into his chest.


    His heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible fist.


    “She loves Dn, and she’ll be with Dn in the end. Do you think sparing her will make her grateful to you? No—she doesn’t care about you at all,” the old man sneered, bitter and cold.


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