Chapter 569
[ 479 words ]
Chapter 569:
Anyone could tell this grave had been looked after consistently for a very long time.
“Frank…” The irritation inside me vanished the moment I spoke his name, replaced instead by guilt so heavy it nearly crushed me.
During the past three years, I had stayed far away, returning only occasionally to visit my father’s grave.
Meanwhile, Frank, someone unrelated by blood, had quietly taken care of my father’s grave day after day in my absence.
“Quit staring at me like that.” Frank approached with a faint, self-mocking grin. “I’m here because I choose to be. You don’t owe me anything, so stop acting as if you do.”
“Frank… thank you.” I lowered my eyes toward the ground, speaking so softly it was almost inaudible. “Still, I can’t reciprocate your feelings. Everything you’re doing… you shouldn’t have to.”
Silence settled between us while the pine branches overhead whispered in the breeze.
Sadness briefly surfaced in Frank’s gaze before determination replaced it. “Whether it’s worthwhile is my decision. Lianne, I stopped expecting you to love me years ago. I stay because someone has to care for this place. And I want you to learn what really happened to your father.”
I could not think of a single thing to say.
Frank clearly had no intention of making me feel indebted, nor did he wish to continue the conversation in front of my father’s grave.
𝖮𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌.𝖼𝗈𝗆
After giving the headstone one final glance, he turned away and headed down the slope. “I’ll be waiting below. Stay as long as you need. Your father loved you more than you realize, even if he never knew how to show it.”
Once Frank disappeared from sight, I slowly sank onto the cold stone stairs beside the grave.
I laid the bouquet down carefully, my fingers grazing the icy surface of the marble.
My father had never been warm or gentle in my memories.
Among the werewolves, he was known as an exceptional instructor. His temper burned fiercely, and every word he spoke carried authority that demanded obedience.
Ever since I was young, he had trained me relentlessly to become a first-rate fighter: combat drills, survival exercises, tracking lessons, endurance training. That was my upbringing.
While other girls played with toys, my childhood was filled with bruises, scars, and roughened palms.
For years, I resented him. I despised his strictness and the absence of affection.
Yet the day he died, I finally understood the truth. The brutal discipline I hated so much had been his way of preparing me to survive.
“Dad…” My voice cracked as tears blurred my vision.
Memories of that disastrous night from three years earlier flooded back.
The news of my father’s financial ruin broke. And less than a day later, his car was found at the bottom of a cliff.
Authorities ruled it a suicide, saying the debt was too much, so he drove the car straight off the cliff.
But I never had the chance to see his body.
.
.
.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.