Outside the hospital room stood two figures.

It was Martin and Stella.

Martin said, "Remington, your godmother pulled through, and she begged me to save Quinn's child. I've also consulted the doctor, and although the kid has congenital issues, he can survive. The Wests will spare no effort to save this child."

Remington frowned in silence while Stella looked downcast, handing him a medical report.

"Remington, this is my full medical check-up. The doctors said the years I spent locked up in a dark place and being abused have caused serious damage to my body. I might never be able to have children. My brother's child might be the only hope for the West family. Please."

Remington clenched the health report, his brows furrowed deeply.

A throbbing pain pulsated in his temples. He lowered his gaze, tiredness and irritation flashing through his eyes.

Remington returned to Oakridge Heights late at night.

He pushed open the bedroom door to find it pitch dark, with Lizetta sleeping peacefully on the large bed.

He remembered how, no matter when he returned or how late it was, there would always be a lamp left on in the room.

A dim light.

Lizetta, like when she was a

was a light she had left

cherished it, and now she even extinguished that

no longer waiting for

the door, then slowly walked to the

up, her arms crossed in front of her chest, even in sleep, her hands

position of someone who was

she used to sleep

would adjust the little girl's body and

took a long time to

felt like a

in vain. Overnight, she had withdrawn her trust and dependence on him, retreating

he had to shatter her shell, he'd keep

placing her hand back under the

eyes, rubbed her hands against the sheets in annoyance, and

was transferred to a regular

everything that had happened

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