Chapter 727
Chapter 726:
Millie’s minor scrapes had already scabbed over. Only the deep marks on her wrists would take longer to heal. Physically, she was getting better. But the dreams—Rita had warned—were the real problem.
They were the chains keeping her bound. Breaking them was something no one else could do for her.
“Are you all right?” Myron cupped her face. “Do you feel unwell?” Millie shook her head, lifting her hand to touch his cheek.
“You look so tired,” she whispered.
He caught her hand and smiled faintly.
“If you’re worried, let a maid or caregiver stay with me,” she suggested, but Myron shook his head.
The memory of that day still burned in him—how he had neglected her, how he hadn’t been there to stop Brandon sooner, how he had let her suffer. He couldn’t walk away from her now, not when she was at her most fragile.
Myron looked at Millie.
In fact, that day wasn’t just her nightmare. It was his as well.
The regret was crushing.
He had faced exile at sea as a teenager, built his power through hardship and blood, and grown numb to death.
He had seen countless people perish and had nearly lost his own life more than once.
Through all that, he thought nothing could shake him. But this time, fear had gripped him deeply. It wasn’t fear of Brandon touching her—though the thought made him ache—it was something far worse.
She and Brandon had been together for seven years and even had children. He knew everything they had been through. He was indeed jealous, yet that wasn’t the real problem.
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It was the fear that she might give up on herself. That she might simply vanish from this world.
The thought alone was unbearable.
If it happened, he didn’t know what he would become—perhaps something darker than Brandon himself.
Holding her hand tightly, his voice hoarse and low, he whispered, “Let me stay by your side, please p>
Millie’s heart stirred.
She could feel his pain.
She understood it.
In the soft glow of the lamp, he looked nothing like the calm, decisive man she saw in the day.
He seemed drained, shadowed by a quiet sorrow. His calm demeanor masked a quiet, desperate intensity.
It was a side of him she had never seen before.
“Alright,” she said at last.