“Andrew is innocent! He didn’t do it!” Officer Amos sobbed into the camera, voice shaking and eyes swollen. “I was paid… paid to lie… I detained him under false charges… I swear on my life… he didn’t do anything…”There was a gasp, loud and collective.Aunt Monica clutched her pearls.Someone dropped a glass.The silence fell in the room,heavy and dreadful .No one blinked. No one moved.Only Amos’s broken voice filled the air, quivering with guilt and fear.“Who paid you?” someone asked off-camera.The question echoed through the speakers, slow and pointed.Amos shifted, lips parting. “I was paid by—”Suddenly , the screen went black.Immediately, the loudspeaker crackled as a voice announced, “The man of the hour is finally here.”Every head in the room turned toward the grand entrance.It was him. Andrew.He stood in the doorway, calm as stone, shoulders squared, face unreadable. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. He just walked in slowly, like he had all the time in the world.The

Andrew took one slow breath and stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the pale figure lying helpless on the floor . Mr. Roman’s chest barely moved. Time was slipping through their fingers and something needed to be done before it got out of hand . “I can heal him,” Andrew said, his voice steady, filled with certainity and boldness The moment those words fell off Andrew's lips , all eyes shifted to him. Their judgmental piercing gazes, pinned on him . Aunt Monica turned, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. “What do you know about curing disease and saving lives?” she hissed. “Not much,” Andrew replied. “But I can be of help.” The room turned colder with her glare. “Shut that mouth of yours. No one has time for your nonsense.” She snapped angrily Anastacia spun toward him, eyes red and brimming. “You stressed my father out with that little stunt you pulled earlier. This is all on you. Since you arrived, all we’ve had is chaos.” Anastacia yelled , her eyes brimming with hatred

Dr. Cross had arrived. All heads turned as the man stepped in, crisp white coat fluttering slightly as he moved with a kind of polished confidence that demanded attention. His assistant trailed behind, younger, quieter, clutching a sleek black briefcase. Morin stepped forward, straightening his collar and clearing his throat. “This,” he announced with pride swelling in his voice, “is Dr. Cross.” Gasps followed. The Ashton family stared as if royalty had entered their home. Eyes widened. Jaws slackened. It was as though he had summoned a god, not a doctor. “You actually brought him?” Aunt Monica blinked hard, like she didn’t trust her own vision. “You must be joking,” someone muttered from the back. “Dr. Cross? Here?” “Oh my God,” Someone said under their breath. “This is serious.” Dr. Cross gave a slight nod, scanning the room with mild detachment. His gaze was piercing but not unfriendly—more clinical, like he was already diagnosing everyone from across the room. A

This time, the protests were weaker—more confused than defiant.Maybe they were tired. Maybe they had already given up hope.Dr. Cross stood to the side, his hands clasped like a man holding on to something invisible, something that wasn’t there anymore. His jaw was set hard, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find words strong enough to survive the silence. Even he had stepped back, and it wasn’t from wisdom—it was from failure. His silence now sounded like surrender. “I need a glass of water and salt,” Andrew said, his voice calm in the middle of chaos.The room went still Every noise died down . Even the ticking of the old clock at the corner of the wall seemed to pause in confusion, unsure what to make of that request.Then a scoff sliced through the silence.“You again?” The voice came from the back, thick with disdain.“You’ll kill him before the disease does,” another spat, loud and flat, like it was a fact, not an opinion.“Do you think this is some physics practical e

The next day came too quickly. It was supposed to be the day of Anastacia and Andrew’s court wedding. After what happened yesterday, the Ashton family had no more excuses. Andrew had done everything they asked . Now it was their turn to keep their word. But Anastacia still hadn’t changed her mind. She didn’t want the wedding. Not to Andrew. Not under these terms. Yet everyone was moving ahead as if her feelings didn’t matter. Andrew stood outside the courthouse, glancing around with restless eyes. His heart beat a little faster each time someone entered the building, but it was never her. He checked the time again. Still nothing. He called her but her line went straight to voicemail. Again. His jaw clenched. Something was off. She wouldn’t just vanish. Not on today of all days. He dialed again, pacing. "Pick up. Come on, just pick up." Then his phone rang. It was an Unknown number. He answered quickly. “Hello?” “If you want to see Anastacia alive,” a voice said,