NovelEnglishIn the realm of Preagend, emerged a crucial moment. Darin, subjected to the embrace of an extensive ten-hour surgery, emerged as a resilient warrior from the theater of operation.
Once the ordeal was concluded, as Darin was gently ushered forth, Camilla Barker, his anxious mother, hastened toward the threshold, her plea dripping with apprehension.
“Doctor, I implore you to save my son.”
The surgeon slowly removed his mask, his solemn expression revealing the harsh reality.
“Mrs. Barker, I regret to inform you that your son’s legs have been severely injured. He will need a wheelchair due to shattered knee fractures. We tried our best, but the damage was extensive.”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt“What?! A life confined to a wheelchair?”
The words unfurled like a storm within her, Camilla’s equilibrium faltering, consciousness itself teetering on the precipice. Swiftly, the waiting butler swooped in, a lifeline in the tempest, beseeching, “Mrs. Barker, hold on, hold on. Tpassed in the ward as Darin slept, vulnerable yet peaceful. Camilla awoke beside him, her helplessness weighing heavily on her soul after her unconsciousness.
Within her grasp, a solitary son resided, a product of her thirty-five years, the coveted heir to the Barker family’s opulence, The family’s destiny was now his mantle, the promise of prosperity entwined with his being. No misstep could be afforded, no miscalculation endured.
And so, Camilla’s cane met the floor, the echo a manifestation of her anguish, her frustration, her desperate outcry.
“Who is it?! Has anyone discovered the culprit responsible for the malicious act against Darin? Their retribution shall unfold in multiples of ten
“Mrs. Barker, our findings point to Marcus, Regrettably, we stand impotent, unable to confront him.”
Within those words, a storm brewed, a revelation that left Camilla aghast, her grip upon her cane a tremulous embrace.
“Marcus? The God’s favored one? How, pray tell, did this transpire? What grievance between our families fuels this vendetta?”
Intrigue hung in the air, as the butler speculated, “A dubious enigna, indeed, Marcus, a being both fierce and feared, yet tethered to his principles. Cruelty borne without cause eludes comprehension. Our young master’s offense remains a riddle.”
Camilla lapsed into silence, her contemplation mirroring the butler’s sagacious words. Gazing upon her slumbering son, a heightened unease gripped her being.
Marcus, a figure unacquainted with the realm of interference, never inclined toward the labyrinth of others’ affairs.
The butler intoned, “Perchance, veracity shall only grace us upon the awakening of the young master
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmAbruptly, the resonance of elevated heels heralded an entrant into the ward.
Camilla’s gaze shifted to behold Rhea’s arrival. In contrast to her ailing son’s paleness, Rhea emanated an air of assurance and elegance. Her hair, meticulously curled, and her flawless makeup bestowed upon her an aura befitting a grand gala.
Camilla held apprehensions regarding Rhea. Positioned to be the forthcoming daughter-in-law of the Barker lineage, Rhea had remained elusive, impervious to communication, and conspicuously absent during the harrowing ten hours of Darin’s trial.
only after Darin’s departure from the surgical sanctum did Rhea materialize. Yet, grief eluded her countenance, an absence of sorrow or lament. This, a deviation from the quintessence of wifely demeanor.
“If your presence lacks willingness, its absence holds greater virtue. Spare us the vexation of your unwilling participation,” Camilla stated with candor.
Rhea’s gaze bore a hint of ire as it settled upon Camilla. This aged figure, her once-vibrant locks now adorned with threads of silver, dared to exercise authority over her. Rhea had learned from the doctor that Darin’s lifethad been tethered to a wheelchair.
To possess a son deemed inconsequential, and yet she had the audacity to wield impoliteness.
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