Heartstrings on Fire novel Chapter 413

"Thanks, Brayden," Jared said.

"No need to be so formal with me."

After ending the call with Jared, Brayden felt a bit annoyed.

Kerri's internship was super busy, and on her rare day off, he had planned an overseas trip.

He had booked a double hot spring hotel, intending to enjoy the hot springs.

Now, it seemed like this trip was a no-go.

At the same time, Brayden realized the severity of the situation.

Just then, Kerri came out of the guest room.

Brayden immediately pulled Kerri aside, "What's the deal, have you figured it out? Jared's tone didn't sound good."

Kerri shook her head, "Seems like it's worse than last time. Agnes wouldn't say a word, just kept to herself."

Brayden stroked his chin, "Looks like we're in deep shit. I need to think of something."

Kerri warned him, "Don't you go doing anything rash. You go home. I'm gonna stay here with Agnes for the next few days."

Brayden immediately expressed his discontent, "No way, we should be with her together."

"Kerri, have you turned into a dog?"

"You're right, and a Tibetan mastiff at that, so you better not mess with me."

Kerri pulled away from Brayden and headed downstairs. While he appeared perturbed on the outside, Brayden was secretly amused. Glancing at the playful bite mark on his arm, he grinned. The bite was gentle, a soft touch that left him with tantalizing thoughts. He mentally chided himself, suspecting the unusual supplements his grandmother had been giving him were to blame for his wandering mind.

Upstairs, Agnes lay on her bed, gazing at the ceiling. It was Christmas Eve, a time that usually brought back fond memories of her childhood. Each year, her mother would take her to the countryside, where her grandmother awaited with a lavish spread, and the highlight: homemade apple pies. With a flaky crust and sweet, molten filling, every bite was a burst of joy. For Agnes, those pies embodied happiness.

But after her mother's passing, the magic of those pies changed. Although her grandmother continued the tradition, the taste never felt the same. The melancholy of these memories brought tears to Agnes' eyes. She yearned for the warmth of her mother's embrace, the simple joy of coming home to her delicious meals, and the loving family she once had.

Her heartache was compounded by betrayal. The woman responsible for disrupting her once idyllic life was someone Agnes had innocently dubbed "sister." Beatrice might've been right; if her mother had a lingering spirit, it might still be restless.