He whispered the words again, heading straight for the door.

Maybe it was Sylvia''s imagination, but the usual icy, pine-like chill that clung to him was now masked by a heavy scent of antiseptic and medicine.

When she turned, he was already gone.

Chris snapped back to reality, a little anxious. "I''m going to check on him."

That left only Reese and Sylvia in the room.

Reese didn''t press for details; she just helped Sylvia sit down. "Sylvia, I''m sorry. My aunt can be kind of stubborn. I think Mr. Rupert only tolerates her because of me. Let me apologize on their behalf."

Sylvia looked at Reese, at a loss for words.

It took a while before she finally asked, "Reese, about Yves..."

"I had no idea Yves was like that behind the scenes. He hurt so many women-he deserves to answer to thew. You were amazing, but you took such a big risk."

Reese''s voice was passionate, even a little naive.

Sylvia only had to think for a second to understand where that innocence came from.

Rupert had never told Reese how twisted Yves''s obsession with her had be. He just let her take the fall.

What a joke.

Sylvia covered her face and started tough.

Reese blinked in surprise. "Sylvia, what''s so funny?"

"Nothing, Reese. You''re just... lucky."fn5300 For more chapters visit find(?)ovel/fn5300

To not know anything, to be loved and cherished.

Reese gently eased Sylvia back onto the bed, reassuring her. "Alright, don''t overthink it. Try to get some rest."

As she was about to leave, Sylvia reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Reese, don''t believe the rumors, okay? Just focus on being a beautiful bride."

Reese smiled. "You guys worry way more than I do."

She tucked Sylvia in, still smiling, and left the room.

Sylvia, as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted, drifted off to sleep, light as air.

Chris hurried after Rupert and followed him back to the hospital room.

The moment he opened the door, he saw Rupert''s tall frame-six-foot-three- copse heavily to the floor.

Luckily Chris was quick. He rushed forward, catching Rupert and helping him onto the bed.

By the time he straightened up, his white coat was stained crimson.

He didn''t even bother to fix it. Instead, he yanked Rupert''s shirt open to check the wounds-split open again, healing badly.

Chris called for a nurse to bring supplies and meds, tending to the wounds while his frustration simmered.

"Why didn''t you just speak up out there? If you''d just stood up and said Kay was behind all this, she wouldn''t. have gone so far with her usations.”  s

"What''s so hard to exin? That house where she was kept-there were Hanson family bodyguards everywhere. Orson went through hell to get you in, and you almost got yourself killed, got stabbed threw yourself into the ocean and wrecked your spine. Then Kay and Tristan go looking for her, and you just have to tag along too."  s

"If you care so much, why not just say it? Look at Mr. Sanford he might as well tattoo ''I love you'' on his forehead..."

Chris looked up, but the words caught in his throat when he saw Rupert''s face.

The man was ghostly pale, sweat beading and dripping from hisshes, pooling on the pillow.

His eyes were dark, almost dead, haunted by some deep, swirling fog.

His Adam''s apple bobbed as he rasped, "Why? Maybe because Lester had a dad who loved him."

Chris fell silent, focusing on wrapping the wound.

Who didn''t like Lester and Reese? They were well-mannered, easygoing, warm, and genuinely funny.

Kids like that... they had to have a great dad.

But Rupert had been the youngest of the Garcia family. His mother died young;

his father was stubborn, a real hardliner.

He''d learned early on never to show

his true feelings-because Tristan would crush them, along with anything or anyone Rupert care about.

s

The Garcias—and Tristan-would never allow their carefully groomed heir to be

soft or sentimental.

Just then, Orson knocked and came in.

"Mr. Rupert, that pretty-boy''s dead. Ran off and got himself killed in a car wreck."