But Malcom seemed completely deaf to the warning, forcefully shaking off Aaron's hand.
Petty leaned sideways against the headboard. The angle made her shoulder blades jut out sharply against the thin fabric of her gown. She had withered away to almost nothing.
"Malcom, thank you for coming to see me. You should head back. Focus on your recovery."
[With you in this state, how can you persuade me?]
Malcom quickly typed the response out on his screen.
Petty's gaze faltered.
He was right. What credibility did she have? She couldn't even force herself to care for her own dying body. What right did she have to tell someone else what to do?
Petty lowered her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "I just don't understand it."
"My father caused the death of his parents, and he drove my parents to their deaths. It seems they found their twisted resolution. Franco avenged his parents... but what about me?"
Aaron froze, a sudden chill violently racing down his spine.
He had only thought Miss Petty was heartbroken, but he never imagined the reality was this utterly horrifying!
He cursed himself silently. He had been the idiot constantly telling her to just swallow her pride, yield to Franco for now, and wait for a chance to escape.
Aaron wanted to punch himself in the face. Her father might have been responsible for Franco's parents dying, but that had absolutely nothing to do with her! Yet Franco had personally driven her parents to their deaths. He was the man who slaughtered her family!
How could she ever bow her head to a monster like him?!
Petty's shoulders began to tremble, her voice breaking under the crushing weight of her despair. "I lost my parents when I was seven. At twenty, my memories were wiped clean. I forgot that Franco was my sworn enemy. I was only allowed to remember how desperately I loved him, how I insisted on marrying him. I was played like a puppet on strings my entire life."

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