?Chapter 486:
Jaxen had always been quick-tempered.
Watching Austen stubbornly reject the truth, Jaxen could no longer remain passive.
“Take a good look! The man lying there is your father. He has spent years searching for you, and now he’s about to leave this life. Are you really going to deny him hisst wish?”
As Jaxen’s frustration mounted, he almost lunged at Austen, but Vincent stepped in just in time.
Vincent’s expression was cold and resolute, his gaze fixed firmly on Austen.
“You’ve known the truth for quite a while now. Turning away from it won’t change anything. The Earl isn’t seeking your acknowledgment; he just wants to see you once more before he finally finds peace.”
Austen’s face flushed, a mixture of hesitation and inner conflict flickering in his eyes.
He gazed intently at Earl Poulos, who was barely hanging on, and finally forced the words out through clenched teeth, “I’ve told you, I have no family. I am an orphan!”
Jaxen’s anger boiled over as he rolled up his sleeves, ready to charge at Austen.
“Vincent, step aside! Let me deal with this jerk. It was not Earl Poulos’ fault that you were taken by bad people all those years ago. He’s carried the weight of guilt and regret for so long. He recognized you before, but chose not to say anything, fearing it would disrupt your life. But what have you done?”
Katelyn, who had been quiet on the sidelines, noticed the redness in Austen’s eyes.
In that moment, Katelyn understood Austen’s turmoil. He had spent his life as an orphan, never knowing the warmth of a family’s love.
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Now, on the verge of discovering his father, he faced the impending loss forever.
Which was more bearable—to have something precious only to lose it, or to have never experienced it at all?
Austen’s answer was clear.
He would rather have never known the love of a family than watch his father die before him.
Austen ground his teeth, refusing to speak.
His stubbornness only fueled Jaxen’s frustration, making him clench his jaw tightly.
Vincent’s expression remained serious.
He spoke in a chilling tone, “I respect your feelings and decisions, but this is your final opportunity. Time and the past are irretrievable. You may find yourself spending countless days and nights regretting the choice you make now.”
In life, there are no “ifs,” and the past could never be rewritten.
Regret after loss is the most painful and tragic experience one could face.
Katelyn slowly shook her head, finally speaking with a heavy heart, “If you refuse to ept this, then just go. I will not pursue the matter of the assassination any further.”
Austen’s head shot up, disbelief shing across his face. “You truly mean to let me walk away?”
Katelyn turned away, her voice heavy with resignation. “Go back to Elora. The man lying here has no connection to you.”<fn8ed8> Original content can be found at find?novel</fn8ed8>
Austen’s eyes wavered, his gaze fixed on Earl Poulos. Despite the urge to leave flooding his mind, his feet felt rooted to the ground, unable to move.
Earl Poulos’ eyes remained filled with love as he struggled to lift his hand, waving as though giving a final farewell. “Let him go. He has a brighter future ahead of him. Being tied to me is fraught with danger.”
Despite his outwardly glorious life, Earl Poulos had always carried the burden of losing his child.
Guilt and regret had haunted him for far too long. He hadn’t been able to do much for his son over the years; the only thing he could offer now was the gift of freedom.
With a heavy heart, Katelyn adjusted Earl Poulos’ nket. “Save your strength and don’t say any more. When the family doctor arrives, there might still be a chance.”
Earl Poulos attempted a smile, but the light in his eyes had dimmed significantly, like a firefly nearing the end of its life, glowing faintly.
Austen stood frozen, his expression a tumult ofplexity—resentment, hesitation, and doubt. Atst, he made the choice to turn away and leave.
Jaxen’s fury boiled over, and he barely contained the urge to rush forward and pummel Austen. “Are assassins truly this heartless? That was hisst chance to see his father.”
Austen’s body tensed, his steps faltering for a moment. But after a brief pause, he forced himself to move forward again.
Each step he took seemed agonizingly slow, as if he were trapped in the frame of an old film ying in slow motion.
No one could see the storm of emotions raging inside him. Then, suddenly, a desperate cry pierced the air behind him.
.
.
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