Chapter 473

Evelyn Roland reclined lazily on the sofa, her fingertips lightly tracing the rim of her teacup. She narrowed her eyes, concealing all emotion behind her lashes. "Don't worry. I know my limits."

Sebastian Valdemar's gaze pierced through the phone screen, dark and fathomless. "Want to go for a walk?"

She glanced at the wall clock, her long lashes lowering. Her knuckles tapped twice against the table before she finally shook her head. "No." Her brothers' suspicions hadn't faded yet. She had to tread carefully.

"Alright. Get some rest." Sebastian's voice was low and restrained. He stared at the face he'd longed for day and night, his knuckles whitening. A mere few dozen kilometers apart, yet it felt like an insurmountable chasm.

In an old apartment complex in City C, under dim yellow light, a middle-aged couple clutched each other's trembling hands. Richard Linton's knuckles were pale, while Margaret Linton's tears traced the wrinkles on her face.

"Richard... do you really think this will work?" Margaret's voice quivered. "Will Valdemar Group even see our application?"

Richard wrapped an arm around his wife's frail shoulders. "The Roland heiress cured Ruby. Our Melanie will—" His voice caught in his throat.

Thud!

A heavy object crashed to the floor in the bedroom. The couple's faces drained of color as they stumbled toward the door.

Melanie Linton stood by the bed, her hair disheveled, clutching a fruit knife. The blade glinted coldly under the light, mere inches from her slender wrist.

"Melanie!" Margaret's legs gave way, her voice breaking. As she lunged to grab the knife, she saw the terrifying emptiness in her daughter's eyes.

Richard wrapped his arms around Melanie from behind, his voice shaking. "Dad found a doctor who can help you. The Roland family's miracle healer..." He felt her body stiffen slightly in his embrace.

Over the years, they'd traveled across the country, spent their life savings, only to be met with disappointment time and again. Melanie's medical records stacked up waist-high, every diagnosis reading the same: Recommended to discontinue treatment.

Until they saw the news about Ruby's recovery.

Back in the living room, Richard downed the last of his liquor and slammed his fist against his temple. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing Margaret with swollen, red-rimmed eyes. At the sight of empty bottles littering the floor, her lips trembled. "You drank this much again..."