Chapter 37
Author: Mel Hope
last update2025-06-26 20:30:35
"Don't worry, your sister will be fine," he said gently.

Just then, his eyes shamelessly lingered on Cynthia’s elegant form—her slim waist, the graceful curve of her posture.

Even the way her tears fell only made her more beautiful in his eyes.

To him, the sadness didn’t diminish her charm, it only deepened it.

Dennis’s hand was already halfway up, ready to pull her into a comforting embrace, when a sharp voice sliced through the moment.

“Matilda is still very much alive,” the voice said.

It was Antonio’s.

He instantly saw through Dennis’s intentions and stepped in to interrupt.

Dennis’s hand froze midair.

“Her ears are bleeding, yes, but her heart’s still beating. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

Cynthia’s eyes, dulled with despair, blinked back into awareness.

She turned toward Antonio, and in that second, hope returned to her expression.

Antonio stood beside her, composed and confident. His tone had been gentle yet authoritative, and he didn’t need to raise his v
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    “…You should leave before you embarrass yourself any further.”Cynthia flinched at her father’s tone, the sharpness of his words slicing through the heavy air. Her heart ached as she looked from him to Antonio, caught between loyalty and desperation. She took a hesitant step forward, her voice trembling though she tried to sound composed.“Dad, please!” she pleaded softly. “Antonio is only trying to help. At least give him a chance. Mom—”“Enough!” Elias snapped, his voice booming across the room like thunder. His anger turned sharply toward her, eyes blazing. “You don’t understand anything, Cynthia. This is my wife. My family. I’ll not let some stranger with no medical degree touch her.”The words landed like blows. The relatives in the room exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to intervene. The air felt thick, suffocating.Antonio’s lips pressed into a thin line. He could feel the tension coiling around the room like a tightening rope ready to snap. Every muscle in his body urged h

  • Chapter 255

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  • Chapter 254

    Elias’s sharp laugh cut him off. “Medicine?” he repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. His gray brows furrowed, and the faint tremor in his jaw betrayed the fury he was holding back. “Are you a doctor now?” His eyes glinted coldly under the dim lamp. “Did anyone here ask for your help?”The words stung like a slap, but Antonio didn’t flinch. He straightened his shoulders, forcing his voice to remain calm, though his pulse hammered in his throat. “No one asked,” he admitted quietly, “but standing here doing nothing won’t change anything. Look at her—your wife is suffering. If we don’t act now—”“Act?” Elias hissed, stepping closer, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. “You talk as if you understand what’s happening here. You think you can just walk into my home, look at my wife, and fix her like some broken machine?”The venom in his tone filled the room like smoke.Cynthia flinched at her father’s harshness, the tears clinging to her lashes catching the flicker of the

  • CHAPTER 253

    The cries in the room had grown faint, replaced by the sound of shallow, uneven breathing. The scent of burning incense hung in the thick air, mixed with the faint metallic trace of medicine. Marianne lay still on the narrow bed, her chest rising and falling in irregular rhythm. Her skin glistened with sweat; her hair clung to her temples in damp, tangled curls. Every few seconds, her body twitched, as though caught between sleep and pain.Around her, the crowd of relatives, neighbors, and longtime family friends stood in uneasy silence. Some whispered prayers. Others simply watched, helpless. Their faces were mirrors of fear—creased brows, tight jaws, hands clenched together in helpless anxiety. The only sounds were Marianne’s strained breathing and the rhythmic ticking of the old wall clock above the door.Cynthia stood near the foot of the bed, her hands trembling. Her eyes were red and swollen, her lips dry from hours of crying. She turned to Antonio, who stood beside her,

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    Antonio sat up straighter, his entire posture shifting. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” A pause. Then the faint sound of a sob. “No,” she murmured, “it’s not me. It’s… my mother. She’s in a terrible condition. The doctors said things aren’t looking good.” Her voice cracked with emotion, the words dissolving into shallow breaths. “Please… can you come over? I can’t go there alone.” Antonio’s fingers tightened around the phone. For a moment, he said nothing. He had spent the week buried in work, consumed by thoughts of Blackthorne—the man who had destroyed everything that mattered to him. He’d been planning his next move, piecing together threads of vengeance that demanded precision. But Cynthia’s voice which was so fragile and broken pulled him out of that darkness. He exhaled quietly, his tone softening. “Of course, Cynthia. Where are you now?” “At my apartment,” she replied between sniffles. “If you come, we can go together to my parents’ place. It’s a few h

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