?Chapter 763:


    “We’ll do what we can,” the nurse reassured softly before hanging up.


    Ste sat motionless on the bench, eyes closed.


    The sunlight that had been warm moments ago now felt icy against her skin.


    She hadn’t wanted to see Marc’s infuriating face again. But Truett’s kindness to her back when she was part of the Walsh family weighed on her like chains she couldn’t break.


    And just days ago, she’d promised him she’d visit more often.


    The hospital’s call meant things were dire. If she didn’t go now, she might never see him again.


    Her issues with Marc had nothing to do with his grandfather—she had always kept that boundary clear.


    Drawing a deep breath, Ste grabbed her keys, slid into her car, and sped toward the hospital.<fn655c> Th? link to the orig?n of this information r?sts ?n Find1Novel</fn655c>


    Outside the operating room, Marc sat slumped in a stiff chair, his face hidden behind trembling hands. A sterile glow spilled from the light above the door, the kind that signaled life or death was still being fought over inside, and the faint sting of disinfectant clung to the air.


    Marc looked nothing like the proud man he once was. His messy hair stuck out in awkward tufts, and the expensive suit he wore hung loosely on him, wrinkled and stained. Faded bruises marked his skin, cruel reminders of the beating William had given him the night before.


    There was no strength left in him. His hollow gaze stayed fixed on the floor, while his hands pressed into his skull as though he could force away his despair.


    The sound of footsteps finally pulled Marc out of that fog. Slowly, he raised his head, and when his eyes caught sight of Ste, a faint flicker of feeling returned to them.


    Resentment burned there. So did a bitter unwillingness, mingled with the sharp sting of self-contempt.


    His lips twitched into something that resembled augh, harsh and broken. Yet he quickly looked away, unwilling to let her see the full weight of his ruin.


    “Well, Ste… or perhaps I should call you Miss Carter.” His voice cracked as he forced the words out. “Did youe here to gloat? To watch me crumble while my grandfather lies dying behind that door? Are you pleased now? Do you feel victorious, seeing me ruined and him pushed to this edge because of you?”


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    He staggered upright, anger simmering as he drew closer. “Is this your triumph, Ste? To see me broken beyond repair?”


    Marc was certain that William and Ste had worked together, scheming until Truett uncovered the truth.


    In his mind, they had made certain his grandfather learned everything, just so he would sit here drowning in despair.


    Ste met the venom in his eyes with cool detachment. Whatever softness she once felt on Truett’s behalf withered in that moment.


    Her palm swung before she thought twice, and the crack of the p echoed through the corridor as itnded across his unshaven cheek.


    Exhaustion weighed Marc down. After sleepless hours and a haze of pain, the strike sent him staggering into the wall, his body colliding with a hollow thud that rang in the silence.


    Marc clutched his cheek, his eyes briefly shing with shock before twisting into derision.


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