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.

the coveted heir to the Barker family’s opulence, The family’s

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

malicious act against Darin? Their

Regrettably, we

that left Camilla aghast, her grip upon

God’s favored one? How, pray tell, did this transpire? What grievance

as the butler speculated, “A dubious enigna, indeed, Marcus, a being both fierce and feared, yet tethered to his principles. Cruelty borne without cause eludes comprehension. Our young master’s

the butler’s sagacious words. Gazing upon her slumbering son,

interference, never inclined

“Perchance, veracity shall only grace us upon the awakening of the

resonance of elevated heels heralded

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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