CHAPTER 173: CHAPTER 173: HER HEART BELONGS ONLY TO THE HOLDEN FAMILY’S YOUNG MASTER

Ronan sat up in bed, feeling a familiar dull pain in his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

He threw off the covers, slowly got out of bed, and planned to go to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

He walked to the kitchen, turned on the light, took out a glass, and turned on the faucet.

The sound of water was exceptionally clear in the quiet.

He reached out to catch the water, his hand holding the cup shaking uncontrollably, as the water hit the bottom of the cup, splashing tiny water droplets.

Jean was a light sleeper, and hearing the faint noise outside, she woke up.

She got up to go to the bathroom, and when she passed the kitchen, she saw the light on inside, Ronan standing with his back to the door, his hand shaking violently as he caught the water.

She paused her steps, then turned and walked into the kitchen.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Ronan heard the voice and turned around, his face appearing a bit pale under the light.

He forced a smile: "Sis, did I wake you? I’m fine, just thirsty, having some water."

Jean said nothing, stepped forward, and naturally took the glass from his slightly shaking hand, securely filling it halfway before handing it back to him.

Ronan took the glass, his fingertips touching Jean’s slightly cool fingers.

He bowed his head and said softly, "Sis, you’re always so good to me."

Jean looked at his pale face and slightly furrowed brows, then asked, "Feeling unwell? Is your heart acting up again?"

Ronan took a few sips of water, the cold water sliding down his throat, seemingly relieving some of the congestion in his chest.

He shook his head, "It’s nothing, just an old problem, it’ll get better in a bit."

Jean looked at him, a subtle hint of worry in her eyes, but she didn’t ask further.

Ronan finished his water and placed the cup on the counter.

He looked at Jean’s simple nightwear and her turning back, ready to leave, and suddenly spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet night:

"Sis."

Jean stopped, turned to look at him.

Ronan’s gaze fixed on her, with complex emotions hidden within.

"If I hadn’t fallen ill back then, you wouldn’t have suffered in prison."

He said this softly, but each word was like a stone falling in the silent air.

Jean stood there, looking at Ronan.

His eyes held concern, guilt, and a stubbornness she couldn’t quite comprehend.

She didn’t immediately respond, just silently met his gaze for a few seconds.

The kitchen light cast a faint shadow over her face, her expression unchanged, her deep eyes giving nothing away.

After about five or six seconds, she said nothing, just withdrew her gaze, turned around, and continued walking towards the bathroom, her steps light.

Ronan stood there, watching her figure disappear into the shadow at the kitchen door.

The faint light in his eyes dimmed with her departure, slowly growing cold.

He looked down at the empty glass on the counter, water droplets still clinging to the glass wall.

When Jean was taken to prison, he was still in high school in Gresten.

The moment he heard the news, it felt like his whole world collapsed.

He immediately wanted to book a flight back home, determined to get her out, no matter the means.

The overwhelming anxiety, anger, and helplessness instantly drowned him, followed by a searing pain in his chest.

His heart condition flared up, and severely so.

He lay in a hospital in Gresten for a long time, with sporadic treatment and rehabilitation continuing for five years.

It wasn’t until last month that his health allowed him to return to the United States.

For those five years, lying in a hospital bed, enduring physical discomfort and the pain of treatment, there wasn’t a day he didn’t miss Claire Caldwell.

Miss her past self, worry if she was okay in prison, if she was being bullied.

There wasn’t a day he didn’t resent himself.

Resent this uncooperative body.

At the time he most wanted to protect her, he couldn’t even take care of himself, trapped helplessly on a foreign hospital bed.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

The glass reflected his slightly distorted reflection.

Now that he’s back, it seems she no longer needs him by her side.

She has a new identity, a new life, with a husband and a daughter.

Ronan’s gaze grew colder.

He won’t let go, no matter what, he won’t let her disappear from his sight again.

The suffering she endured, he’ll make those responsible pay the price.

Including Justin Holden.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his increasingly erratic heartbeat.

The dull pain in his chest was slightly better than before.

He stood leaning against the counter for a while, turned off the light, and slowly walked back to the guest room.

In the dark, he lay in bed, eyes open, without a trace of sleep.

His mind repeatedly replayed Jean’s departing back and her calm yet distant look.

He knew, some things weren’t the same as five years ago.

But he didn’t care.

He just wanted her to stay within his sight.

He wanted to see her live happily, live joyfully.

In the morning, Jean’s phone rang.

It seemed like a call made with a deliberate time zone calculation.

She glanced at the screen, seeing Simon Sterling’s number.

She walked to the window and answered the call.

"Miss Ellison." Simon Sterling’s voice came through the receiver, as steady as ever, "I just conducted a detailed examination for Ms. Kingston again. With her current heart and blood pressure condition, long-distance flights are very risky, I do not recommend she flies to the United States."

Jean gripped the phone tightly, "I see, then can my cousin help over there?"

"Limited use," Simon Sterling answered directly, "Ms. Kingston’s emotions are quite unstable, she repeatedly mentioned wanting to see you; medication can only control her physical indicators, unable to ease her anxiety."

Jean was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Okay, I understand; if that’s the case, I’ll bring Jesse back."

"Hmm, let me know once the itinerary is set, I’ll make arrangements here," Simon Sterling said and ended the call.

Jean put down the phone and walked back to the dining table.

Ronan was eating breakfast and looked up at her.

"Sis, who was it? You don’t look well."

"Doctor Sterling, my mom’s attending physician."

Jean pulled out a chair and sat down, her tone steady.

"My mom’s not well, she can’t fly over; it looks like I’ll have to take Jesse back for a while."

Ronan paused his hand holding the spoon.

He put down the spoon, looking at Jean.

"Going back so soon?"

"Yes." Jean picked up a slice of bread, but didn’t eat it, "I initially came to escape certain people, but it seems, even in the United States, I can’t quite get rid of them."

She was referring to Justin Holden.

Ronan’s eyes darkened, showing obvious dismay.

"I haven’t officially graduated, I have an important defense and procedures next month, I can’t go back with you right now."

He paused, his tone becoming urgent.

"But wait for me, Sis, wait until I graduate next month; I’ll immediately go back to find you, it’ll be quick."

Jean glanced at him, expressionless, just calmly said, "You just focus on finishing your studies, I can handle my own matters."

She finished speaking, put down the untouched slice of bread, stood up, and turned to walk towards the bedroom, seemingly to pack her luggage.

Ronan watched her figure disappear behind the door, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bitter smile.

Aunt Mason was tidying up the kitchen nearby and witnessed this scene.

She dried her hands, came over, and smiled gently at Ronan.

"Young Master Sutton, thank you for your kind intention, but our Miss has been through a lot over these years, she’s changed quite a bit."

"She’s gotten used to handling problems on her own and keeps people somewhat at a distance; she doesn’t intend to be cold to you, please don’t take it to heart."

Ronan turned his head to look at Aunt Mason, quickly masking the bitterness on his face with a bright smile.

"Aunt Mason, how could I mind?"

His gaze shifted to the closed door of Jean’s bedroom, his voice gentle.

"Whatever kind of person Sis becomes, I like her just the same."

Aunt Mason’s smile slightly froze, a hint of clear surprise flickered in her eyes.

She looked at Ronan’s young and earnest profile, opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

She sighed inwardly.

Ronan, this child, seems serious.

He likes Miss.

But how could Miss ever fancy him?

He’s not the type Miss likes.

Aunt Mason was well aware that, ever since Jean grew up, the only person who truly held a place in her heart was the young master from the Holden family.

She shook her head, continuing her work.

The affairs of young people, she neither understood nor could manage.