Chapter 408
Cyrus showed up at that moment with a dry towel and clean clothes. He was about to open the door when Anathea, moving on instinct, extended her hand toward him and said, “Here, I’ll do it.
Cyrus paused, then wordlessly handed Anathea the towel and clothes. He said, “Please take good care of him, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Anathea let out a breath and slowly opened the door behind her. She entered the bedroom and called out tentatively, “Gregory?”
She was answered by only silence and Gregory’s forlorn, distracted profile, which was illuminated by the lightning that split the
sky.
She stopped before him and crouched, peering at his face as she probed, “What happened to you?”
What happened that could have rendered an apex predator like Gregory into a shell of a man?
But Gregory didn’t answer her. He lowered his empty gaze, and there was no telling if the droplets that clung to his long lashes were rain or tears. His hair was dripping too. The droplets splattered onto Anathea’s dress, soaking through the fabric.
Anathea swallowed the rest of her words and used the towel to dry his soaked hair. He said nothing, behaving almost like a giant, obedient dog as she toweled his hair.
The rain outside grew heavier, and the gusty wind hurled the rain against the window as if intent on breaking the glass. Anathea toweled Gregory’s hair until it was half–dry, only to realize that the towel Cyrus brought them wasn’t enough.
She was about to turn and retrieve a new towel when, the next second, a cold hand gripped her wrist.
“What’s wrong?” Anathea glanced over her shoulder at Gregory, who had tipped his face up to look at her. He seemed to think she was leaving, for he tightened his grip on her wrist.
She stopped and explained patiently, “I’m just going to get a dry towel.”
When he didn’t budge or let go of her, a mild exasperation seized her. She tried to pry his fingers off her wrist. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
“Don’t go,” Gregory said, his voice hoarse as he stared at Anathea evenly. His eyes were red and misty with tears.
Anathea froze, for he looked like a puppy who’d been abandoned by its owner by the roadside, utterly helpless and piteous.
She never thought there would be a day when Gregory would be described as looking “piteous“.
In her momentary daze, Gregory inched closer to her side and planted his free hand on the dip of her waist. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she felt the icy, drenched fabric of his shirt on the back of her hand, and she instinctively shoved his shoulder.
However, he only hugged her tighter, as if she’d walk away from him if he let go.
“Hold on…” Anathea frowned, nudging his hand with her hip. She didn’t want him gripping her around the waist so tightly, fearing it might hurt the baby.
However, Gregory seemed to think she was trying to go and mercilessly leave him behind. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and fell on the back of her hand. “Don’t go…”
The rainwater that had soaked through his shirt was cold to the touch, but his tears were scorching. Anathea went still as Gregory’s sobs filled the silent, empty room.
It was as if the tears he’d been holding back found release at last. He was like a bowstring wound so tight that it was close to snapping, and was finally allowed to loosen.
To him, Anathea was the last good thing he had that warmed his frozen heart.
Anathea had seen every side of him–his inadness, his despicable ways, and his deference in his last gamble to win back her love. Everyone else saw him as walking perfection, but it was only in front of Anathea that he could be his obsessive, jealous,
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Chapter 408
and maniacal self.
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As such, he could only cry his heart out before her. He couldn’t allow himself to show his vulnerable side in front of anyone but her. She was the only exception.
The rain continued pouring outside in a relentless symphony. Inside the room, Gregory was on his knees as he clung to Anathea like she was the only source of comfort he had left in this world.
“Anathea, you’re all I have left.”
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