After dinner, which ended at 11 p.m., Eric and Ella spent a little ti chatting on the balcony. Soon after, they returned to bed, determined to make up for all the sleep they had lost over the past several days.
The Next Morning.
When Ella woke up, her head was still faintly aching. She had a tendency to get headaches when overly stressed, but they usually subsided within two or three days.
Seeing her looking sluggish, Eric assud she was unwell. "What’s wrong? You look like you didn’t sleep enough. Are you feeling okay?"
Ella draped herself over his chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles there. "Yeah, hubby, I feel like I haven’t slept enough. My head hurts a bit."
"Then go back to sleep," Eric suggested. "If Lucas cos, I’ll handle him."
Ella’s fingers pressed slightly harder against his chest. Eric grinned wickedly, capturing her finger in his hand. "Ella, are you hungry again?"
Ella groaned and withdrew her hand. "No, let sleep a little longer."
"Have breakfast first, then you can sleep again," Eric insisted.
Reluctantly, Ella brushed her teeth and, without even bothering to change out of her pajamas, ate a quick bowl of porridge before crawling back into bed. Her head felt heavy—she might have been coming down with a cold.
At 8 a.m.
As expected, Lucas and Luke arrived at the hotel to et Ella.
When they didn’t see her, Lucas looked visibly disappointed. "Is she still upset with for not stepping in during your ordeal?"
Eric cast him a calm glance. "No, she’s not feeling well."
Lucas’s expression darkened. "Could it be... she’s expecting? I hope you’re treating her well. Whether the wedding is grand or simple, the most important thing is that you cherish her."
His voice carried a wistful tone, a bitter mory of Robert’s marriage to Isabella. The grand wedding ant nothing when the relationship was built on suffering.
"Of course, Father-in-law, you don’t need to worry about that," Eric replied confidently. "She only ntioned a headache, nothing more."
Hearing this, Lucas’s face grew more serious. For a mont, he seed lost in thought, his palms beginning to sweat.
...
Later that morning, Curtis and his wife arrived at the hotel to et Eric, offering a heartfelt apology for the events that had transpired. Eric, though polite, didn’t dwell on the matter and sent them off without much fuss.
Shortly afterward, Jas and Lauren hurried in.
"Eric, are you alright?" Jas asked, his gaze falling on the bandage on Eric’s forehead. His face was tight with concern.
"I’m fine, thank you," Eric replied courteously, his tone distant. Jas’s face clouded with sadness.
Lucas, who naturally recognized Jas, greeted him politely. Although they had never collaborated, Lucas was familiar with him through Eric’s background.
"I need to speak with you privately, Eric," Jas said softly.
Lucas stood and offered a nod. "Eric, if you’re busy, we’ll head out. I’ll co back in the afternoon to pick up Ella."
Eric nodded, and Lucas, after exchanging a brief, amiable farewell with Jas, left with Luke. Lauren headed upstairs to check on Ella, leaving Eric and Jas alone.
Eric leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp and dispassionate. "Say what you need to say."
Jas sat down heavily, his hair startlingly gray. Eric was montarily taken aback—when he left Country S, Jas hadn’t looked so aged.
Jas’s exhaustion was apparent. Ever since Eric’s ordeal began, he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep. Despite their strained relationship, Eric was his only blood relative. The guilt and regret weighed heavily on Jas, a man who had made countless mistakes in his youth.
"Henry has regained consciousness. It looks like he’ll recover fully in ti. I plan to return ho in a few days, but before I do, I want to hand over my properties and business to you."
"I don’t want them," Eric replied icily. "Mr. Nelson, take them with you—to your grave."
His words were as sharp as ever. Eric could never forgive Jas for his reckless and indulgent youth, which had driven Victoria to her death.
For Eric, no amount of remorse or gestures could erase the pain of the past.
Jas laughed bitterly, his voice tinged with sorrow. "The Nelson Group... your mother poured her heart into it too. I just want to pass her legacy to you. Whether you value it or not is up to you. And the villa your mother left for you—take it back as well."
Eric didn’t respond, simply sipping his drink, the fiery yet slightly sweet liquor doing nothing to numb the ache in his heart. Their father-son relationship had deteriorated beyond repair, and he had no intention of nding it. In Eric’s mind, Jas was unforgivable.
During the repeated assassination attempts on Eric’s life, Jas—his father—had been utterly indifferent.
Though there were a few fleeting years when Jas occasionally played the role of a father, once Eric was sent abroad, Jas’s deanor grew colder and more detached. He had even publicly disowned Eric, denying him as his son and thereby insulting Victoria’s mory. How could Eric ever forgive him?
His mother had sacrificed her life for Jas, jumping to her death out of despair. anwhile, Jas had continued his life of luxury with his mistress, seemingly unburdened by guilt or grief.
"What my mother left for , I will reclaim. I’ll protect the Nelson Group, but as for your personal assets? Donate them to charity," Eric said with a cold laugh. "At least you’ll accumulate so good karma, so maybe in your next life, you won’t end up in such a bad family."
Eric’s tone turned icy as he continued. "Do you really think I care about your wealth? Even if you gave every share to Henry, I wouldn’t care."
With that, Eric stood abruptly and walked toward the door.
"Eric!" Jas called after him, his voice filled with pain. He watched his son’s retreating figure, his heart aching like it was being torn apart. But he had no idea how to bridge the gap between them.
Jas knew he had failed Eric—every ti his son faced danger, he, as a father, had done nothing to help.
Now, frail and aging, Jas felt the weight of his mistakes more acutely than ever. He feared the loneliness that awaited him in his vast, empty mansion. His wife was in prison, his two other sons were no longer around, and though the house was staffed with servants, it lacked the warmth of family.
"Eric, I’m sorry..." Jas muttered as he turned to leave, his expression heavy with regret. He knew that no matter how many tis he apologized, Eric would never forgive him. Their relationship, long severed, was like an arrow released from a bow—it could never return.
All Jas wanted now was to occasionally see Eric, to talk without the bitterness and hostility. But even that was too much to hope for.
Inside Ella’s suite.
"What? You’re really planning a wedding? Where will it be? Country W or Country S?" Lauren exclaid, her voice brimming with excitent. "I have to be one of your bridesmaids, Ella. You better save a spot for !"
Ella chuckled. "Lauren, you’re squeezing my hand too tightly! Don’t worry—there will be six bridesmaids."
Lauren pouted. "I want to be the maid of honor!"
"Alright, the spot is yours," Ella said, amused.
Lauren squealed with delight, though her eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy. "I’m so envious of you! You’re getting married, and I’m still stuck in limbo. Even if Henry recovers, he’ll never look at . He’ll probably just send away again."
As they chatted, a woman’s voice suddenly rang out from the hallway, loud and exaggerated. "Mr. Nelson! Didn’t you say you’d play gas with and teach the secrets of n?"
Lauren’s expression shifted, and Ella’s smile faded. Lauren had left the door slightly ajar when she entered, allowing the voice to carry clearly into the room.
"Who’s that?"
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