NovelEnglishChapter 287 He searched all night.
In the end, it was a call from his father, Conrad Montgomery, that forced Lysander to return to the old estate.
"Have you lost your mind?" Conrad's face was thunderous as he confronted his son in the study.
Last night, Lysander had sent out so many people, causing quite a commotion. The whole social circle was abuzz, watching from the sidelines, eager for gossip. Even Conrad-who hadn't involved himself in family affairs for years had been dragged in by the uproar.
Lysander, having been caught in the rain all night, looked pale, but he didn't seem to care. "I don't have tto think about appearances. She needs to be found as soon as possible." A vein throbbed on Conrad's temple; he was so furious, he hurled the mug on his desk across the room. "Now you remember to worry, do you?" He was about to launch into another tirade when a knock cat the door. Adrian, who'd been staying at the estate lately, slipped in.
"Adrian, it's early-why aren't you getting smore sleep?" Conrad's stiff expression softened at the sight of his grandson, and his voice gentled.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt"Grandpa, I couldn't sleep," Adrian murmured, looking pale and uneasy. "I had another nightmare. I dreamed about Mom-she was underwater, crying and crying. I couldn't sleep at all." His voice faltered as he drew closer, grabbing his father's large hand.
"Dad, I miss Mom. When is she coming back? I promise I won't make her mad again. Can you ask her to chome? Please?" "Soon," Lysander replied quietly, then strode out of the room.
This time, Conrad didn't try to stop him. He just let out a heavy sigh, gathering the trembling Adrian into his arms, comforting him, coaxing him to try and get a little more sleep.
It was barely dawn, after all. Five, maybe six in the morning.
Lysander left the old estate. He'd barely gotten into his car, ready to search the Willow Lane neighborhood again, when his phone rang-Leonard's nflashed on the screen.
"Sir, Forrest is waiting for you at Crimson Gardens." How convenient.
Lysander's grey eyes narrowed, cold and calculating. He told the driver to head to Crimson Gardens instead.
Soon, the car pulled up in front of the villa. Lysander climbed out, striding toward the lounge. As he walked, he shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it to Harper, then unfastened the top buttons of his black shirt, rolling up his sleeves.
Inside the lounge, Forrest waited, dressed in immaculate white, his face equally grim.
Seven years had passed since these two men last stood face to face. And yet, when they finally did, both were unexpectedly calm-almost eerily so.
Lysander spoke first. "Where is she?" Forrest's tone was flat. "That's what I should be asking you." A thick silence settled between them. They stared each other down, both searching the other's eyes for any hint of deception. In the end, it was clear: neither was lying.
The calm shattered in an instant. Both men's fists clenched, knuckles white. They lunged at each other, punches flying, each blow aimed to hurt.
Old grudges and fresh wounds—all unleashed. Forrest dropped his refined, gentle mask for the first time, every punch fueled by raw hatred. One landed square on Lysander's jaw, his voice shaking with rage.
"Lysander! How could you?" "How do you think she felt? How could she possibly handle that?"
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmForrest knew Mila wanted to cut ties with Lysander; after all, he was the one who'd slipped those documents to her through Gisellè. But he never En. expected Lysander to pull a stunt with that little robot—an ill-timed confession that shattered Mila's last defenses. He'd chfrom the Federal Security Bureau at dawn, watched the security footage, and nearly lost his mind.
For the first time, his composure was gone.
Lysander hadn't expected the hidden voice archive in the little robot to be triggered either.
But facing Forrest, he refused to back down. He swung back, just as fierce.
"Forrest hof this would have happened without you!" The words were pure provocation.
"You still dare show your face here? Wasn't the lesson I gave you years ago enough? Doesn't your hand hurt yet?"
Forrest's hand twitched involuntarily.
The old nerve pain flared, searing up his arm but he gritted his teeth and threw another punch, eyes burning red.
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