"How many times do I have to remind you that your father left us?" Isabella yelled once more, forcefully grabbing Sophia's right hand as she stormed toward the mansion's entrance door in a flurry of angry, determined steps and grumbling words."You love your father so much, huh? You didn't believe me when I said he left us, did you? Do you ever think If I had not come through for you at the hospital, the dad you loved so much would?" Isabella murmured, her voice delicate and fragile, reminiscent of the fluttering wings of a butterfly. Sophia, despite Davis watching from behind, managed to hear Isabella's words, while Davis himself stood perplexed, trying to comprehend the situation unfolding before him.He wondered if Isabella's unforgivable resentment toward him was due to his mother's interference in their private lives. Or perhaps Isabella still longed for Ethan, especially now that he had become one of the most successful young men in the entire country. However, no matter how muc

"Mr. Alexander!" Davis called at the loudest volume of his voice, but if Alexander heard him, it was a lie.In the bathtub, water mixed with soap and antiseptic, and there lay Alexander, lifeless like a broken statue, robbed of all vitality and expression.Davis, confused about what to do at this moment, took three backward steps like a startled deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. The private security guards who rushed closely behind him faced the sight of the dead Alexander lying motionless in the bathtub.First, they carried him out of the bathtub and laid his drenched self on the ground. Then they examined him from head to toe and discovered that Alexander had caused his own death by slitting his wrist in the bathtub, leaving the whole floor and the whole bathtub bloody.The look on the private guards' faces was an expression of their inner question about what could have happened for their master to finally decide to take his own life.At this moment, it was evident t

Suddenly, as the security guard whisked Sophia away, Isabella's eyes darted to the television in the waiting room like a startled cat. Her attention was instantly captured, and her gaze fixed on the screen with a mix of surprise and trepidation, as if a hidden truth about her was about to be reported. Since the time she walked into the waiting room, the television was there, but she didn't pay much mind to it because whatever was shown on it was not a thing of concern compared to the tragic present.But as she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be her own face on the screen, her focus snapped to it with a jolt of shock.Urgently, she tapped Davis, diverting his attention from the image of Isabella's face he had been transfixed on on his phone to look at the television screen. In unison, they rose from their seats and slowly approached the television, their footsteps heavy with anticipation."Where is the remote?" Isabella demanded, her voice laced with frustration. However, no one r

As Mr. Smith opened the door to the postoperative room, he perceived an atmosphere of calm and meticulous care. The room was colored white, invoking a sense of purity and sterility. Soft, diffused lighting bathed the space, providing a soothing ambiance that promoted rest and recovery. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the gentle hum of medical equipment, which subtly indicated the presence of advanced technology. Monitors displayed vital signs, their rhythmic beeps serving as a reassuring melody, monitoring the patients' progress. Intricate lines of IV drips traversed overhead, resembling delicate vines, delivering essential fluids and medications to aid in the healing process. But there was more to the scene. Two sick beds occupied the room, placed side by side, with Mr. Alexander in one and Victoria in the other. Both of them lay with closed eyes, their stillness contrasting with the beeping monitors that assured their vitality. To Mr. Smith's surprise, the room was devoid of

After about a minute of pleading, Isabella and Mr. Smith locked eyes, and he finally opened his mouth to speak."It was never my master's intention to be hostile towards you or your parents. He is waiting for you in the waiting room," Mr. Smith stated, his voice calm and composed. He proceeded to disassemble the pistol into pieces and walked over to the security guard, who still lay on the floor.As he approached, Mr. Smith knelt down, releasing a deep breath and taking a second look at the weakened security guard.The guard's face exhibited clear signs of his feebleness; his expression was cautious, anticipating any potential threat from Mr. Smith, as if seeking to protect himself in the most weary way possible.Chuckling at the guard's wary demeanor, Mr. Smith placed each disassembled piece of the pistol into the guard's suit pocket. He then patted him on the shoulder, akin to a captain assuring one of his soldiers of a successful mission, and spoke to him. "You are not worthy to be