Five Years Wasted Now They Beg Her Back novel Chapter 288

When the raw truth is laid bare before you, when you learn that one of the people who killed your loved one shares your blood…

The feeling isn't hatred.

It's powerlessness.

A deep, bone-weary fatigue and disgust.

In the distance.

Damien stood under an old tree, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

He had been standing there for a full day.

He hadn't moved an inch.

Felix approached with an umbrella, speaking softly. "Mr. Clarke, the rain has stopped, but it's getting cold. I'm worried about Ms. Hart's leg… she can't take much more of this."

"I know."

Damien's eyes, full of bloodshot veins, were fixed on the small, huddled figure.

"Mr. Clarke, aren't you going to talk to her?"

"And say what?" Damien gave a self-deprecating laugh and snapped the cigarette in two. "Tell her not to hate me? Or tell her not to hate the Clarke family?"

"Don't you get it?"

"I don't even have the right to stand by her side right now."

"Even if I wasn't the one who did it, I'm still a Clarke."

Felix fell silent.

In all the years he'd worked for Damien, he had never seen his boss like this.

Just then, Damien's phone vibrated.

It was a text from Grace.

Damien's hand trembled as he almost instantly tapped the screen open.

It was just a short sentence:

[The truth is more draining than hate.]

Damien stared at the words, and his eyes immediately turned red.

He understood.

How could he not understand?

She was telling him she was tired.

And that exhaustion scared him more than any hysterical quest for revenge.

Damien took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for a decision.

He put the phone back in his pocket and strode toward the gravestone.

"Mr. Clarke!" Felix called out behind him.

Damien ignored him.

He walked up behind Grace and crouched down.

Grace didn't turn around, nor did she move.

She murmured in the last second before she drifted into unconsciousness.

"If only… you weren't a Clarke… that would have been nice."

Damien's steps faltered.

A single, hot drop of liquid traced a path down his cheek and fell onto Grace's forehead.

It quickly vanished into the night.

"Yeah."

He whispered in response, his voice so soft only the wind could hear.

"If I were just Damien… just the Damien… who loves you, that would have been nice."

At the bottom of the hill.

Elliot had the rear car door open, the heater blasting.

Damien gently placed Grace inside, pulling a blanket over her.

In the dim light of the car's interior, he saw the faint track of a tear still wet on her cheek.

Damien reached out, wanting to wipe it away, but his fingertips recoiled as if burned the moment they touched her cold skin.

"Back to Jarrow City?" Felix asked.

"No."

Damien closed the car door, his expression instantly turning grim and terrifying.

"Take Grace back first. Then… we're going to the Hart family."