The mont the ringtone sounded, her heart twisted into a knot again.
Longing for news from him, yet fearing it might be bad news... Her heart was tense, conflicted, uneasy.
"Hello." The ringing ended, and Ian Shelby’s familiar voice ca through, "Hello, this is Ian Shelby."
"It’s ," Mia Lane said softly, "How is he?"
"Master?" Ian was shocked, "Is this your number?"
"No." She had tears in her eyes, trying to stay calm, "This is Anton Miller’s phone. Tell quickly, how is he now? What’s the exact situation? Has he truly escaped danger?"
"He has, but hasn’t woken up yet." Ian truthfully told her, "We don’t know when he’ll wake up. He might beco a vegetable, or maybe... one day in the near future, he’ll wake up."
His words lacked confidence.
Tears stread down, and Mia Lane felt the scorching pain rolling in, a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes, "You’ll find a way to wake him up, won’t you? You’ll try your best, right?"
Pinning all her hopes on her disciple.
"He can’t beco a vegetable!" Mia’s heart was filled with panic, her voice was choked with agitation, "He’s a prodigy, a legend in the business world. If he becos a vegetable, how is that different from being dead?"
"Master..." Ian’s heart clenched too, "I’ll try my best, but... many things don’t yield results just because you try, so if I can’t do it, please don’t bla ."
Holding the phone, tears fell like rain, even breathing was painful, "I don’t bla you... I only hate myself."
"Are you okay?" Ian was worried about her emotions, "Where are you? Has he done anything to you?"
Mia didn’t answer. Sadly, she hung up the phone, slowly taking it away from her ear.
For a mont, she felt like the air was filled with shards of glass, each breath stabbed her lungs with pain.
Vegetable...
He might beco a vegetable...
That’s a fact Mia couldn’t accept no matter what.
That night, she cried for a long ti and blad herself for a long ti.
That night, she flipped through the album over and over, caressed his laughing face repeatedly, tears rolling down onto his visage, exploding into glistening, helpless blossoms of tears.
That night, she suffered from insomnia again...
Clutching the album, lying in bed, her tears just couldn’t stop, like a broken faucet.
Her heart was being torn open, the pain was ripping, bleeding, flesh and blood blurred.
In the room next door, two empty wine bottles lay on the table, the air was thick with the sll of alcohol.
Anton Miller had half a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He kept drinking, in a foul mood.
If Justin Kingston doesn’t wake up, what significance is there in taking Mia away?
He just wanted to see Justin suffer, watch him go crazy! To flaunt Mia in front of him!
Wasn’t he so remarkable? Didn’t he have the power to call wind and rain?
What skill is there in lying down?!
Tears glimred in Anton Miller’s eyes, his expression extrely solemn, deep down perhaps he also wished Justin would wake up?
Ti flashed forward two months—
In those two months, Mia Lane didn’t go out, constantly staying in that seaside villa, never smiling, rarely speaking, her heart always tethered to Justin Kingston.
Yet she didn’t dare to ask Anton Miller for a phone, fearing she might anger him and lead him to do sothing irrational to her.
Anton Miller went out to film every day, coming ho to accompany her for dinner after work.
No exchanges, yet living peacefully.
In Aethelburg, in a heavily guarded VIP ward.
Monica Usher had stayed by the bedside for two months, she had no mind for company matters, fortunately Finn Morgan could still manage and Kristina Kingston was reassured.
The room was exceptionally quiet, the early sumr breeze stirred the curtains.
Justin Kingston hadn’t woken up, his wounds had healed, and the bandages were removed, revealing his exceptionally handso face again.
Just when Monica Usher saw no hope, those distinct fingers moved unconsciously.
She stared wide-eyed at that hand, once thinking it was an illusion!
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