?Chapter 1405:


    The post bragged about her “outstanding restoration skills,” saying she led a team that sessfully restored ancient murals others had failed to repair for years.


    Experts and cultural institutions were all reposting it, calling her “the most gifted restorer of her generation.”


    Ynda scoffed. “What’s so special about that? These people clearly haven’t seen real talent.”


    There was no way Christina had actually restored something even Magnus, the legendary restorer, couldn’t handle. She probably just patched it up to make it look finished. The article also mentioned that Christina would be appearing before major media outlets the next day.


    Ynda sneered. “Yeah, right. She’s probably terrified people will see through her act.”


    She told herself that over and over, but the more she stared at the news, the tighter her chest became. Her breathing quickened. She grabbed the bottle of pills King had prescribed and swallowed one.


    Only a few were left. If she ran out, she’d be forced to go through that hellish pain again—the kind that made her wish she were dead.


    The thought of Christina, healthy and glowing, made her blood boil.


    “Someday,” she muttered, her voice shaking with hatred, “I’ll make her feel what I felt. I’ll make her suffer until she begs for death.”


    “Ynda.” The voice snapped her out of it.


    She quickly locked her phone and looked up with a smile. Brendon had just entered. “Brendon, you’re back.” She walked up to him, linking her arm through his affectionately.


    “What were you looking at? You looked pretty upset,” he asked, watching her closely.


    Ynda blinked, hiding the sh of panic that crossed her eyes. Then she sighed softly, her expression fragile. “My medicine’s almost gone, Brendon. When will I finally get better?” Her weak tone and slightly pale face made Brendon’s heart ache.


    He sighed inwardly. He’d been searching for King everywhere, but there was no trace of him. Once the medicine ran out, he didn’t know what he’d do—or how to convince King to help again.


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    Thest time, he’d paid an enormous price just to get the pills that kept Ynda alive. But King wouldn’t see her in person, no matter how much Brendon begged.


    Heartless. That was the only word that came to mind. King was utterly heartless.


    “Ynda,” he said finally, frowning as a new thought shed in his mind—a suspicion that needed proof.


    “What’s wrong?” Ynda asked, her brows knitting together as she looked at Brendon, confusion flickering in her eyes. Her fingers tightened around her phone.


    What would he think if he found out that Christina was the one who restored the mural? Would he start seeing Christina—differently—admiring her, caring for her—instead of Ynda? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her. In an instant, Ynda threw herself into his arms, clutching him tightly as if afraid he might vanish.


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