Chapter 415 Hope Shattered
Chapter 415 Hope Shattered
+10 <b>Free </b><b>Coins </b>
Lena’s name pierced the fog of Rowan’s fury. Inch by inch, his fingers loosened, relinquishing Serena’s throat.
Freed, Serena staggered back. Her knees buckled, and she nearly copsed, cheeks slick with the terror of a life almost ended.
Rowan lowered his gaze to his tr
embling hands, appalled. He prided himself on clear thinking, yet a petty lie had led him around like a blind man grasping at smoke.
Worse still, a heavier question crashed over him: what now?
<i>Can </i><i>Lena</i><i>–</i><i>the </i><i>woman </i><i>who </i><i>had </i><i>once </i><i>dragged </i><i>him </i><i>from </i><i>his </i><i>own </i><i>ruin</i><i>–</i><i>still </i><i>be </i><i>saved</i><i>? </i>He could not, and would not, lose her.
“Rowan,” Quinn insisted, squeezing his fingers, “we’ll find another way. Serena is not the only path–there has to be something else.”
Pain flickered across Rowan’s eyes, raw and unhidden.
If there had been any alternative, he would never have chained himself to Serena’s deceit in the first ce.
Finding a perfect donor was never simple, and they all knew it.
“Rowan, listen to me. The world is enormous; somewhere, a donor whose marrow matches yours is waiting for us. I’ll move heaven and earth to find that person. And I’m sure our uncle will stand with us. So… please, don’t give me that shattered look anymore.”
Quinn’s nose burned, the sting of tears she refused to let fall.
Her brother had always been carved from something unbreakable–confidence and strength hammered together, the kind of resolve that never yielded even when storms howled.
Yet now his eyes were hollow, emptied of everyst ember.
She sensed that without a spark of hope, he would splinterpletely.
To Rowan, Lena was more than the woman who had once hauled him back from death. She had be the fragile thread that kept his spirit sewn together through those brutal years
when they had no one but each other.
Losing Lena was simply not an option.
Elsewhere in the city, Fabian stood at rigid attention before Julius.
“Mr. Whitethorn, Ms. Bridger asked me to deliver a message for you.”
Julius lowered his eyes, the gesture as detached and sharp as a guillotine, showing not the slightest interest in the message Fabian carried.
“What time is the flight?”
“Five this afternoon.”
“Then we leave now.” Julius rose from his chair, his movements crisp and final, like a verdict already sealed.
“Mr. Whitethorn, are you sure you don’t want to hear what Ms. Bridger asked me <i>to </i>tell you?”
“Whatever message she passed on, it no longer matters to me.”
“But what if she is asking to be with you again?”
Fabian knew he should have snapped his mouth shut the moment his employer’s apathy surfaced.
Yet he could not. He understood all too well the space Quinn upied inside the man’s guarded heart.
Julius halted mid–step, as if Fabian’s words had struck a hidden nerve.
“Mr. Whitethorn, Ms. Bridger says she wants to start over with you. She’s waiting to see you. Since you love her so deeply, maybe you should give her this one meeting.”
Julius‘ voice was ice. “Fabian, since when did you earn the right to decide for me?”
A chill rushed through Fabian; he realized he had just angered his boss. “Forgive me, Mr. Whitethorn. It’s only that Ms. Bridger is truly worried about you and has begged to see you, so
I…”
“There will not be a next time. If you overstep again, do not bother showing your face to me,” Julius warned.
Fabian felt a sudden chill sprint down his spine; fine sweat prickled between his shoulder des. He straightened, forcing his voice steady. “Yes, I understand.” That single sentence tasted metallic, as if duty itself had sliced open his tongue.
Julius lifted his foot onto the marble threshold, not once looking back at the Whitethorn
<b>17:39 </b><b>Sat</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b><b>20 </b><b>N </b>
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Chapter 415 Hope Shattered
+10 Free Coins
residence whose shadows still clung to his coat. Outside, a ck sedan idled like a waiting predator. He slipped inside, and the driver steered toward the airport.
<i>Does </i><i>she </i><i>truly </i><i>wish </i><i>to </i><i>begin </i>again <i>with </i><i>me</i>? And <i>when </i><i>she </i><i>told </i><i>Fabian </i><i>those </i><i>words</i><i>, what </i><i>look </i><i>flickered </i><i>across </i><i>her </i><i>face</i><i>? </i>
His fingers drifted to the sandalwood bracelet hugging his wrist, its rose–brown beads cool against his skin, the iys catching stray shafts of light that leaked through the car window.
He wondered if she realized her single sentence had tasted to him like forbidden sugar, warm and devastatingly sweet, a temptation so fierce it had almost shattered the hard–won resolve he now clung to like a lifeline.
The sedan glided beneath steel trusses and ambermps, finally rolling to a halt outside the departure hall.
Julius stepped out, cutting a tall, forbidding silhouette beneath the rotating lights, while Fabian hurried at his side.
“Is everything ready at the hospital in Celosia?” Julius asked, his tone so calm it felt colder than the airport air whipping around them.
“All preparations areplete,” Fabian assured him. “The moment you arrive, the procedures can begin.”
“Excellent.” Julius let the single word drop like a gavel, then moved on without another nce.
“Mr. Whitethorn, your injuries are still healing,” Fabian ventured, voice low. “After the fire, you lost so much blood. Traveling to Celosia for that procedure now will strain you terribly. Even Dr. Huxley begged you to wait until you’re stronger.”
“I refuse <i>to </i>letplications multiply,” Julius said, eyes hard as flint. “The longer we dy, the more time fate has to interfere. And my body? I know it better than anyone.” (
Fabian heard the finality in that tone and fell silent. If even Gavin’s medical authority could not sway Julius, nothing he said would make a dent.
“No one is to know about my trip to Celosia,” Julius added, his voice dropping to a dangerous hush. “Especially… Quinn Bridger.”
“Understood.” Fabian snapped to attention.
Julius lowered his gaze to the bracelet once more. If that was what she desired, then he would carve a path to make it real. This was the promise he owed her–unyielding, irrevocable.