The Day Our Promise Breaks

Chapter 299

When Dahlia heard about the three-year mourning period, her grip on the wheelchair's armrests tightened instinctively. This was something she hadn't seen coming. Even in death, that old witch could still mess with her plans for another

three years.

The commotion reached Evelyn too, and her expression turned noticeably colder. Brooks sensed the change immediately and squeezed her hand a little tighter. He leaned in, concern etched in his eyes, whispering softly, "Evelyn." He worried that the affectionate display between Charles and Dahlia might stir up old wounds for her.

Charlie's death was a wound in Evelyn's heart that never quite healed. Charles and Dahlia—the ones responsible for Charlie's demise were the people she despised the most. They had pushed her to the brink more times than she could count. It was hard for her to accept that they could still live happily after what they'd done.

But Evelyn managed a soft, "I'm fine," as she turned to Brooks with a faint smile. Her smile was slight, but her demeanor was steady. She wasn't rattled by the sight of them. Seeing her like this, Brooks felt both relieved and heartbroken.

to six months ago when an unexpected call came in from an unknown number out of town. His heart raced as he answered it. Not many people had his private number, and nobody would dare share it without his say- so. The first person that popped into his head

been over a year since Evelyn had fallen into the river. Common sense told him that in such harsh conditions, long past the best time for a rescue,

voice say "Brooks" brought tears to his eyes. She was alive. Overcome with joy, he immediately arranged a business trip, handed his tasks to an

he finally saw her, standing there smiling gently at him, he rushed forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Feeling her warmth was the confirmation he

were alive, why didn't you reach out?" he asked, unable

had been receiving treatment. He felt

him with a smile. She really did seem brighter, and his hearDeased. Nothing mattered more than seeing her

couch, he rolled up his sleeves and joined her in the kitchen. She

hand, rolled up her sleeves again, exposing the scars lining her wrists-remnants past battles. Some were deep, others not as much, but each one told a story

of