Chapter 970:

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She knew they were right. In her current state, she could barely sit up. What could she possibly do against a dynasty?

She looked up at this man, this stranger who was her grandfather, and for the first time, felt a flicker of something other than grief and rage. A fragile, desperate sense of connection.

“What do we do?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Silas saw the change in her eyes. The fire was still there, but it was no longer a wildfire. It was a controlled, contained flame, burning with a cold, clear purpose. He knew she was with him.

A grim, sad smile touched his lips. “First,” he said, “you live. You get strong.”

He squeezed her hand. “I will move heaven and earth. I will bring in every top specialist on the planet. I will spend every last dollar of the Croft fortune to find a cure for you.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with a hard, ruthless light.

“And then,” he promised, “together, we will write the plan. And step by step, piece by piece, we will burn their world to the ground.”

𝗤𝗎𝘢𝗹𝘪t𝗒 𝘵𝗋aոs𝗹𝗮𝘵𝗶𝘰𝗇ѕ 𝗈𝘯 𝗀𝖺lո𝘰𝘃e𝗅𝘀.𝘤o𝗆

Cailin looked at him, at the absolute certainty in his face. And for the first time since she had woken up in this nightmare, she felt a sliver of something that wasn’t despair.

She nodded.

A seed of purpose had been planted in the barren wasteland of her grief. She would see Donovan Van Doren on his knees. And for that, she had to live.

The storm of emotion had passed, leaving behind a strange, desolate calm. Cailin lay back against the pillows, her expression now a carefully constructed mask of weary acceptance. Her eyes, however, were deep and unreadable, hiding a universe of secrets.

Silas, seeing her apparent compliance, felt a wave of relief. He reiterated his promise, his voice filled with a grandfather’s fierce determination. He would find a cure. He would save her.

Cailin just nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t watch the hope die in his eyes, not when it had just been born. So she played her part. She changed the subject, asking him to tell her more about Genevieve, about the mother she had never really known.

He spoke for hours, his deep voice painting pictures of a vibrant, rebellious young woman. For a brief, bittersweet time, they were not a dying woman and a vengeful patriarch. They were just a grandfather and a granddaughter, connected over a shared, tragic love.

But even as she listened, a cold, relentless clock was ticking in the back of Cailin’s mind. She was a woman on borrowed time, and she had to use every second of it before Silas discovered the truth.

Miles away, in a suite at The Pierre, the first rays of dawn pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Giselle Van Doren groaned, a sharp, stabbing pain lancing through her skull. She slowly, painfully, opened her eyes.

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