Since Atlas and the other leaders were found in the safe room, the cardinal and Iris’s bodies should have been found imdiately. However, with the amount of ruins surrounding the safe room, it took ti.
At least, it took ti for them to identify the bodies because of the state they were in.
Those two were crushed so badly that it wasn’t even right to call their remains bodies. According to the reports, it was like a giant mosquito had been squashed.
Violent as it may be, but if Lola were being truthful, they deserved it.
For the sins they committed, for the lives lost to a aningless act of vengeance, for the hearts they manipulated, for all the pain they caused, for the mockery of those who clung to faith, and for everything else...
She wanted to believe God was truly angry.
*****
anwhile, in Atlas’s ward...
Henrik, who was also a patient and wore the sa hospital gown as everyone else, idled in the ward. He sat comfortably on the couch, reading the papers in his hands.
"If you’re going to read the reports, do it in your own ward," Atlas said flatly while reading the reports Lola had brought to keep him from getting bored.
Henrik smirked and glanced at him. "Atlas, do you know you’re the only one with a private ward? To make matters worse, I had to share mine with Draken, your sister’s bodyguard, and your father."
"Hah!" he scoffed. "Do you have any idea how upsetting that was?"
It wasn’t like Henrik didn’t understand why he was sharing a ward. Honestly, he could’ve flown back to his territory to recuperate. However, Lola had twisted his arm and forced him to help her. Besides, he wanted to see this through to the end.
Even so, that didn’t an he enjoyed staying in the ward.
Not when it was utterly chaotic.
Charles and Draken bonded by talking about Atlas’s flaws. Mark — Penny’s bodyguard — was quiet, but the colleagues who kept visiting their ward had mouths like built-in gaphones. Not to ntion, Penny dropped by occasionally to hype them all up.
That woman definitely knew how to throw a party.
They were also fascinated by Baby and Draken’s massive physiques, so the chatter in their ward never ended.
It was hell for Henrik.
"I guess it is," Atlas nodded, already imagining the situation in Henrik’s ward. "Even so, I’m not letting you stay here. This is where my wife sleeps."
Henrik’s face twitched.
"Hey, Atlas. Do you even know why your father and Draken got along? While you were dying here and not waking up, those two wouldn’t stop badmouthing you. Especially your dad!" He scoffed at the thought of how Charles talked about his sons as if they were mistakes.
Wasn’t Charles supposed to be the loving, supportive father? The kind whose children clung to him with their lives?
That was what Henrik expected.
But the more he listened, the more disappointed he beca.
"How could a father say his kid is just weird? And that if soone just looks you in the eye, they’d know sothing’s off?" he continued.
"Why are you angry on my behalf?"
"Huh?"
"Or are you angry because he wasn’t what you expected him to be?" Atlas asked, watching Henrik’s brows furrow. "My father has a few rules in life: love his wife more than his own life, then the daughters, then the money, and lastly, the sons."
"What?"
"If the son looks like my mother, he’ll be more lenient. Sadly, all of us took after him more than our mother," Atlas explained flatly. "If not for our mother, he would’ve thrown us all in the bin."
Henrik’s face twisted in disbelief. "Bin? You’re kidding. What kind of biased life motto is that?"
"But at the sa ti... he’d step into a building full of explosives just to save his sons," Atlas added calmly. "I may be a father myself, but I have no idea what a real father should be. What I do know is that my father never stopped trying to be one — no matter how biased, petty, or childish he could be."
Atlas turned toward the window, the corner of his mouth curling into a small smile.
That was right.
His father was far from perfect.
If anything, he was the most flawed father one could have.
However, Charles never stopped trying to teach his sons how to be the man of the house... and how to love soone with all their heart and soul.
"He was probably very disappointed that I, of all people, forgot how he cut off his relationship with his own father to protect his wife and children from that kind of environnt," Atlas murmured.
Not that Atlas planned to cut off the Bennets.
But Lola and the twins would always co first.
No matter what.
And no one would bla him for putting his own family before anyone else.
Because that was how it should be.
anwhile, Henrik watched Atlas’s side profile before letting out a slow breath. His gaze dropped back to the reports in his hands.
"Are you sure this report is a hundred percent certain that the one they found under that thing is Iris?" he asked quietly.
Atlas glanced at him. "Mhm. Lola did dental, blood, hair — every test possible to confirm the bodies were the cardinal and your wife."
Henrik leaned his head back.
"She really wants to close this case, huh?"
"If they’re alive, it’s better to find out now," Atlas replied. "Otherwise, we’ll just face another problem later."
Henrik chuckled. "Even if they lived, how could they still dream of revenge when they have nothing?"
Atlas shrugged.
A vengeful heart always finds a way.
"I’ll take back whatever remains of that woman’s body," Henrik said, rocking his head. "And send her off properly. Even if she doesn’t deserve it."
He laughed softly. "She’s still my wife, after all."
Atlas opened his mouth, wanting to say sothing, but decided against it.
Henrik didn’t need to know the cardinal had a hand in elevating Iris’s family in his court... and in pushing Henrik to marry her. Henrik already suffered from losing a loved one because of Iris’s doing.
"By the way," Henrik said suddenly. "I’ve been thinking about sothing."
He leaned back and stared at Atlas. "Do you know who Alfred is?"
"Hmm?"
"Your kids keep telling about Alfred and my son, Efraim," Henrik said. "I wonder if they have another friend. I’d like to invite him too. My son’s birthday is coming up, and I want to throw him a huge party."
Atlas blinked.
Then blinked again.
And with just a few words, Henrik’s joy about spoiling his son ca to a halt.
"Isn’t your son’s na Aldrin?"
"Excuse ?" Henrik frowned, then his face twisted in realization. "You jerks... my son’s na is Efraim! Don’t baptize him with ridiculous nas!"
But alas, poor little Alfred would forever be called Al, short for Alexander.
It wasn’t even remotely close to his real na.
But poor little Al liked it.
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