Yancy Hastings scrutinized Fiona Sutton’s expression, trying to detect any unusual emotions, but his efforts were futile.
"Of course, I don’t care. What is there to care about?"
Fiona Sutton forced a smile, her expression perplexed.
"Get out!"
Yancy Hastings turned aside, his face dark as he spat out the word.
Fiona Sutton paused, taken aback. "I hope you keep your word."
With those parting words, she opened the door and left the room.
Yancy Hastings remained alone in the spacious room, motionless, his expression exceptionally grim.
It had to be said, the upbringing he’d received from a young age had deeply ingrained so old-fashioned ideas in him.
A girl who didn’t even care about such things.
And yet, he had to admit, he himself cared desperately.
After checking out of the hotel, Yancy Hastings drove back to the military base at breakneck speed.
The rain alternated between heavy downpours and light drizzles. Upon his return, he packed his bag and, braving the torrential rain, began a grueling trek into the mountains, weighed down by his gear.
「Speaking of the mountains, one couldn’t help but ntion Alan Morgan.」
During the day, the rain wasn’t as torrential as the previous night. Alan Morgan drove through the mountainous terrain for so ti.
When he finally reached a narrow, winding path, he put on his hat and got out of the car.
"Sir, the weather is terrible today. It’s not suitable for going into the mountains."
A man stepped forward to stop him. Alan Morgan had just been discharged from the hospital; he was still very weak and hardly fit to venture into the mountains.
"I have to go in. You don’t need to follow ."
Alan Morgan retrieved his gear from the car and put on his raincoat.
"Sir, we’ll go with you."
How could they possibly let him go in alone?
"No need."
His tone allowing no argunt, Alan Morgan impatiently grabbed his gear and headed down the path.
It was as if an invisible thread connected him to sothing, drawing him forward.
Throughout the night, he had been restless and helpless. His heart ached faintly, as if he were on the verge of losing sothing precious.
It was a deep ache.
Perhaps this was the invisible pull between father and son.
When Gerry Peary had been rushed to the hospital for ergency treatnt, he had sensed it too.
"Shirley Grant!"
If anyone were to ask Alan Morgan what kept him going, his answer would undoubtedly be hatred—his burning hatred for Shirley Grant!
anwhile, in Capital Town, Shirley Grant finally broke down when she saw Gerry Peary awaken.
"Gerry? Gerry, it’s Mama."
Shirley Grant reached out to touch his pale cheek and imdiately pressed the call bell for the nurse and doctor.
Within a minute, the attending doctor arrived to examine Gerry Peary.
"He’s mostly stable now, but his treatnt cannot be delayed any further."
Hearing the familiar words, Shirley Grant nodded and turned to look at Gerry Peary lying on the hospital bed.
It should have been an age of innocent bewildernt for him, yet his face held a seriousness uncommon in children his age.
As if he truly understood everything, he lay there obediently, doing whatever he was asked.
"Where is the child’s father?"
The doctor asked, puzzled. The child’s condition was so severe, and the situation had been critical the previous night—why hadn’t his father appeared?
Shirley Grant froze. Just as she was about to answer, she saw the look in Gerry Peary’s eyes.
That longing in his gaze—it struck her heart like a sledgehamr.
Seeing Shirley Grant’s silence, the doctor didn’t press further. After a few brief instructions, he turned and left the ward.
Shirley Grant forced a smile and went to Gerry Peary’s side.
"Gerry, are you hungry? Should Mama get you so breakfast?"
"Okay."
A small, hoarse voice replied. Shirley Grant struggled to hold back her tears.
"Gerry... do you miss Daddy?"
She clenched her fists, her gaze fixed on his small, pale face.
Gerry Peary looked at Shirley Grant, a hint of puzzlent in his eyes. After a long hesitation, he slowly began to speak.
"No. Gerry only needs Mama."
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