Burning Passion: Love Never Die

In the realm of Preagend, emerged a crucial moment. Darin, subjected to the embrace of an extensive ten-hour surgery, emerged as a resilient warrior from the theater of operation.

Once the ordeal was concluded, as Darin was gently ushered forth, Camilla Barker, his anxious mother, hastened toward the threshold, her plea dripping with apprehension.

“Doctor, I implore you to save my son.”

The surgeon slowly removed his mask, his solemn expression revealing the harsh reality.

“Mrs. Barker, I regret to inform you that your son’s legs have been severely injured. He will need a wheelchair due to shattered knee fractures. We tried our best, but the damage was extensive.”

“What?! A life confined to a wheelchair?”

The words unfurled like a storm within her, Camilla’s equilibrium faltering, consciousness itself teetering on the precipice. Swiftly, the waiting butler swooped in, a lifeline in the tempest, beseeching, “Mrs. Barker, hold on, hold on. Time passed in the ward as Darin slept, vulnerable yet peaceful. Camilla awoke beside him, her helplessness weighing heavily on her soul after her unconsciousness.

a solitary son resided, a product of her thirty-five years, the coveted heir to the Barker family’s opulence, The family’s destiny was now his mantle, the promise of prosperity entwined with

Camilla’s cane met the floor, the echo a manifestation of her

malicious act against Darin? Their retribution shall

our findings point to Marcus, Regrettably, we stand impotent, unable to

those words, a storm brewed, a revelation that left Camilla

one? How, pray tell, did this transpire? What grievance

and feared, yet tethered to his principles.

words. Gazing upon her slumbering son, a

unacquainted with the realm of interference, never inclined toward the labyrinth of

“Perchance, veracity shall only grace us upon the awakening

of elevated heels heralded an entrant into

emanated an air of assurance and elegance. Her