When She Rose From the Ashes

Chapter 235 Natalie Deserves Better

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Jensen immediately realized where Natalie was living. The hillside villas–every plot of land there belonged to the Stone family. Many people had tried to buy property in that area, but money alone wasn’t enough; you also needed connections.

Connections the Stone family recognized.

At present, that entire villa district was private territory; without Natalie’s permission, he couldn’t even get past the gates at the base of the hill.

Still, Jensen drove straight to the hillside estate.

As expected, he was stopped at the entrance.

The villas stood so close before him, yet he couldn’t reach her. For the first time, Jensen felt the distance between himself and Natalie–so near, yet impossibly far.

He pulled his car to the side, took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and dragged in a deep inhale; the smoke burned his throat, sending him into a fit of coughing.

It had been years since he’d smoked.

He had first picked it up with Sharon.

Back then, he thought it was cool–and Sharon liked it.

After his accident, when the doctors forbade it, he had quit.

Over time, Jensen nearly forgot the feeling.

But now, as smoke clawed at his lungs, the pain made even his chest ache.

“Natalie…”

I have been so blind, throwing away a woman who

Hansel’s WhatsApp pinged again.

this in Ms. Sharon and Johnson’s chat logs.

and Johnson; yet when he heard Hansel’s voice note,

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9:47 Tue, Sep 30

235 Natalie Deserves

disgust me with. Hansel had circled the key parts in

darkened as he

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look real. Best if you tell Jensen my cancer cells have

real cancer patient’s case file. Right now we don’t have

away now? Don’t forget, I have photos and videos of us sleeping together. If you don’t do what I say, I’ll send them to Jensen and tell him you drugged

insane! There’s nothing wrong with you, and you insist on pretending you’re terminally ill? Do you realize you’re walking a tightrope? If Jensen ever finds

And even if he knows, I’ll find a way to keep him

Jensen, raw and damning–like a resounding

“Sharon’s cancer… was fake?”

hoarse, carrying a trace of

so easily–costing him the woman he truly loved. It was

it. She’d need a real medical exam to be

all Hansel could

the chat logs spoke clearly enough; even more followed,

doubted; deep down, he knew it was

the estate, draw Sharon’s blood, run a full

“Yes, sir.”