Chapter 846
Chapter 846:
Joy replaced the shadows in Myron’s expression like light chasing away darkness.
He gathered Millie into his arms, sealing their understanding with another kiss that tasted of promises and new beginnings.
The car glided steadily toward the Elliott Mansion, carrying them toward their shared future.
Meanwhile, anxiety gnawed at Brandon’s bodyguard as he approached the private room, his knuckles rapping against the door before he pushed it open to reveal Brandon slumped on the floor, his head bowed in defeat.
Brandon appeared utterly shattered, as if the world had crumbled around him.
“Mr. Watson, what’s happened to you?” the bodyguard demanded with rising panic, abandoning the wheelchair he was pushing to rush toward Brandon’s motionless figure and wave frantically before his vacant stare.
Without witnessing the devastating scene that had unfolded inside this room, the bodyguard studied Brandon’s hollow expression and began to suspect some terrible head trauma had occurred.
“Mr. Watson? Mr. Watson, please respond to me p>
But Brandon remained locked in his private hell, his gaze fixed on an invisible point on the floor as if watching his dreams dissolve into nothing.
Panic seized the bodyguard as he grasped Brandon’s shoulders and shook him desperately.
Brandon offered no reaction whatsoever. The bodyguard’s trembling fingers fumbled for his phone, ready to summon emergency medical help.
In his frantic haste, the bodyguard’s elbow caught Millie’s abandoned coffee cup, sending it tumbling across the table.
The dark liquid spread across the surface in slow motion, creating abstract patterns.
The coffee had grown stone cold by now.
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Brandon’s gaze fell upon the overturned cup, and a harsh laugh escaped his throat, bitter as poison.
The ceramic vessel lay abandoned, its contents spreading across the surface—a forgotten offering of cold coffee that mirrored his own forsaken existence perfectly.
She had discarded him just as easily as she had abandoned that cup of coffee. As the bodyguard’s fingers moved frantically across his phone screen, preparing to summon help, Brandon’s hand shot out and covered the device with surprising force.
Relief flooded the bodyguard’s features as he witnessed Brandon finally emerging from his catatonic state.
“Mr. Watson, allow me to assist you to your feet,” he said, maneuvering the wheelchair closer with practiced efficiency before helping Brandon settle into its familiar embrace.
Brandon’s spirit remained crushed as the bodyguard guided him toward the waiting car, his body moving without any real purpose or direction.
“What destination shall I set, Mr. Watson?” the bodyguard inquired once they’d settled into the car’s leather interior.
“Take me to my apartment,” Brandon responded, his voice hollow and distant. The vehicle carved its path through the city streets, returning him to the building that had once felt like sanctuary but now loomed like a mausoleum.