Chapter 1002:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Cailin was sitting up in bed, propped against a mountain of pillows, staring out the window. The morning light filtered through the glass, catching the delicate line of her jaw, making her skin look translucent and fragile.

She turned her head at the sound of the door. When she saw him, her eyes, which had been distant and empty, sharpened with a familiar, cold vigilance. The shock of the revelation had passed, leaving behind a hard, crystalline hatred.

He pulled a chair over to her bedside and sat down. The space between them felt vast, charged with years of pain and misunderstanding.

He didn’t know how to begin. The words felt clumsy and inadequate in his mouth.

Your daily dose of novels on galnovels.com

“How are you feeling?” he asked, the question sounding stupid even to his own ears.

She didn’t answer. She just watched him with those cool, intelligent eyes, waiting for him to state his purpose.

He cleared his throat, the sound loud in the quiet room. He didn’t need to tell her the secret, Silas had already laid the ruins of her identity bare, but he needed to know if she was ready to burn the world down with him.

“I know the weight of what Silas told you,” he started, his voice halting. “I know that knowing Donovan is your father feels like a secondary poisoning.”

Cailin listened without moving, her face a blank canvas. She didn’t deny it; the DNA report had already stripped her of the luxury of denial.

But when he mentioned the necessity of utilizing this connection to secure the antidote and ensure her safety, her body gave a violent, convulsive shudder.

Her pupils dilated. Her breath hitched.

And then she laughed.

It wasn’t a sound of amusement. It was a short, bitter, broken sound, the laugh of someone who had already survived the cruelest joke in the world and was now forced to live in the punchline.

“Do you expect me to thank him?” she whispered, her voice faint but firm. “To use the blood of the man who destroyed my mother as a tool for my own survival?”

Hilliard watched the raw pain warring in her eyes. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the file Silas had given her previously, now supplemented with additional evidence of Donovan’s systemic erasure of her mother. He handed it to her.

Her hand trembled as she took it. She stared at the photograph of her mother, a vibrant young woman full of life. Next to it was a picture of a young Donovan Van Doren, his face arrogant and handsome.

The hatred in her gaze deepened, replacing the fragile grief.

She remembered her confrontation with Donovan in the hospital garden. She remembered the flicker of shock in his eyes when she had thrown his own betrayal back in his face.

The pieces were all there, forming a picture so monstrous she couldn’t bear to look at it, yet she couldn’t look away.

With a sudden, violent cry, she threw the file to the floor. The papers scattered across the sterile linoleum. She wrapped her arms around her head, her body curling into itself as if to ward off a physical blow.

.

.

.

Message from Noa: My beloved little oneeeees, just letting you know that there’ll be some revamping on the site soon, with lots of new features that I hope you’ll love so so much. It’s taking a little while, but everything will be ready this week. Hope you like them, and remember that most of the options will only be available to the little ones who are registered and logged in. God loves you and Noa wishes you all the best. (>‿=)✌

.