Charles cut him off coldly, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"I've already deleted all the footage from the scene, but there's no guarantee someone won't talk."
"As long as Abigail is given the drug, even if she tries to sue later, I can claim she's mentally unstable. No one questions a lawyer's word."
My consciousness kept sinking through days of haze, memories trapped in an endless dream, fragmented and scattered.
Despair crashed over me like a tidal wave. My heart seized violently, the pain spreading through every limb.
Back then, he'd severed ties with his own family just to marry me.
All that love, all that tenderness—he'd erased it with his own hands. Gone without a trace.
So the happy marriage I thought I had was nothing but an empty dream.
This cruelty disguised as love? I didn't want it anymore.
All I wanted was justice for Grandpa.
My chest heaved violently. The splitting headache forced tears down my cheeks.
"Abigail, what's wrong?"
Charles gripped my hand tightly, his eyes full of concern.
"Don't be scared. I'll stay right here with you. Once you wake up, everything will be better."
His voice was gentle, aching with tenderness. He rubbed my legs softly, trying to ease my discomfort.
But all I felt was agony tearing through my body, a bone-deep cold.
The hospital room was deathly silent, filled only with his soft, soothing murmurs.
Now, each word sounded like a death knell.
"Make sure the chicken soup stays warm. I want her to have it the moment she wakes up."
He gave Morgan another gentle instruction. "And have the yellow roses ready. I want to see the look on her face when she's surprised."
Darkness swallowed me whole. I had no strength left to fight my body's collapse, yet I could still hear his voice clearly.
Perhaps Charles had loved me once.
But Freya—she was his blatant favoritism.
The mutual affection we once shared, the model couple everyone envied.
It had all been a silent tragedy.
Dr. Caldwell approached the bed with the syringe, his voice low.
"Mr. Pierce, everything is ready. Would you like to reconsider?"
"Inject her."
I lay on the hospital bed, letting them do as they pleased, grief raging inside me like a violent storm.
I thought I'd already given up. But when his cold voice fell, it still cut through me like knives scraping bone.
I wanted to scream at him.
Charles, did you ever really love me?
But all I could manage was a silent, bitter laugh.
Now, every word he spoke was a blade, slicing my soul inch by inch.
"She may experience brief memory confusion after waking. It's perfectly normal—nothing to worry about." Dr. Caldwell nodded slightly as he explained.
Charles exhaled slowly, his expression finally relaxing.
"Good."
Five years of beautiful memories flooded my mind without warning.
He had openly defied his parents just to be with me.
"Abigail is the love of my life. Even if it means cutting ties with my family, I will be with her."
He'd spent three full days setting up the proposal himself, eyes red-rimmed as he told me he'd never marry anyone else.
He said not even his parents could keep us apart.
He said his life was only complete with me in it. That he'd protect me for the rest of his days.
But his voice grew distant, fading, until it became a cold blade plunging straight into my chest.
"Forget Grandpa waking up—even if he actually dies, I will never let anyone threaten Freya."
Self-mockery, helplessness, bitter irony—emotions crashed over me all at once, and I finally lost consciousness completely.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw Charles.
He looked exactly as I remembered—clean-cut and handsome, as if nothing had changed.
