Waiting is the most agonizing thing.
Fifteen days later, Fiona Sutton still had not received any news.
Yancy Hastings’s phone was still unreachable. However, she received a letter at school—a letter from Yancy Hastings.
Fiona sat in her dormitory, looking at the envelope, puzzled.
Seeing his handwriting on the envelope, a slow smile touched Fiona’s lips.
A letter from him... does this an Yancy Hastings is safe now?
"What on earth is this amazing guy up to?" Fiona pouted, though her eyes held no trace of anger.
She reached out, tore it open, and the mont she unfolded the letter, the smile on Fiona’s face instantly froze.
Tears welled, threatening to overflow.
"’Last Will!’" she choked out. The words were large, clear, and written in a strong, forceful hand.
Fiona trembled violently, stumbled, and collapsed to the floor.
The letter read: "The army has regulations: before a mission, one must write a will. So, much of it is cliché; I’ve written it thousands of tis."
Before her eyes, it was as if Yancy Hastings were at his desk, writing this very letter.
"I always felt it was completely unnecessary because every will I wrote eventually ended up in the trash."
He was so arrogant, so confident.
"If I absolutely have to write sothing, then it’s this: Fiona, wait for . When I co back, I’ll take responsibility for you. Stop being so stubborn."
Below that, page after page was filled with similar words, all promising his return.
"SOB... SOB..."
Fiona sat on the floor, clutching the letter, crying like a child.
Why? Why did this happen?
Is he really dead?
No, it can’t be. It just can’t be.
Fiona imdiately grabbed her bag and rushed out of the dormitory.
After hailing a cab, Fiona followed the address on the envelope and arrived at the military camp.
"Miss! I’m sorry, you can’t enter."
A security guard at the entrance blocked her path.
Fiona’s eyes were red, and she clutched the will in her hand.
"I’m looking for your commanding officer!"
Fiona stood her ground, glaring defiantly at the security guard.
"I’m sorry!"
Seeing her like this, how could he possibly agree?
Never mind who she was; the commanding officer wasn’t soone just anyone could get permission to see.
"Get out of my way!"
But who was Fiona Sutton? She wasn’t soone these people could stop. She charged straight inside.
"Miss! Miss!"
The guard imdiately chased after her, quickly notifying his superiors.
"A young woman forced her way in! I couldn’t stop her!"
「Thirty minutes later.」
「Reception Room.」
Fiona was sitting there. In front of her was a disposable cup, filled to the brim with water.
The door suddenly opened, and a middle-aged man walked in.
Zion Hastings frowned, looking at Fiona seated there.
So, this is Fiona Sutton?
He had been the one to send the will; it was his son’s last wish.
Besides, the will had been written for this young woman.
"Yes."
Fiona t Zion Hastings’s gaze directly, neither servile nor overbearing.
"What are you here for?"
Zion Hastings found himself sowhat admiring the young woman. Not bad at all. She has guts.
"I’m looking for Yancy Hastings."
Fiona couldn’t believe Yancy Hastings was dead. She had to confirm it herself.
Is he doing this on purpose? What kind of sick trick is this, trying to make believe he’s dead?
Fiona slamd the will onto the table, her face flushed with anger.
"I’m sorry. We have confird his... death."
Zion Hastings didn’t want to accept this either. For an old man like him to bury his own son—that was the greatest pain imaginable.
But he was a soldier. He had to accept it.
From the mont his son had joined the army, his life had belonged to the country.
"I want to see him. Even if it’s just... his body."
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