Chapter 17

In the cramped little attic, the only furnishings were a worn-out folding bed and a few sparse, basic belongings. Everything else was clutter-boxes, old books, and forgotten knick-knacks. The walls were yellowed, exuding a musty odor, while cobwebs collected in the corners.

Seeing the state of the place, Ethan was seething with anger. "May, what were you thinking? Claire is my sister. Who allowed her to live in this dump?"

May, feeling wronged and helpless, replied, "Sir, wasn't it you who told Miss Claire to stay here in the first place? Have you forgotten?"

"When did I ever..."

Ethan stopped mid-sentence as memories rushed back to him.

Eight years ago, when Claire was brought back home, he had let her choose a

room.

Claire had picked the guest room next to his bedroom, which he immediately rejected, "I plan to turn that into my study. Pick another."

Then, Claire chose the room adjacent to Vanessa's. He refused again, "Vanessa wants to make that her art studio. You can't stay there."

for him to object once more, "You are a Linwood; if people knew you lived in the attic, they'd laugh

space, but it's

it out and let her stay there

as bright and airy as the

endless cold, lonely nights in this dreary

own sister had been relegated to a damp, dark storage space

realization nearly suffocated

before suggesting, "The storage room is damp. Perhaps it would be better to move Miss

Ethan replied firmly, his voice laced with guilt and regret, as though pierced by countless needles of remorse. He took a

words, he cradled Claire's unconscious

surge of happiness for Claire. It seemed the master finally showed some brotherly concern for Miss Claire, after years of neglect. She quickly dialed Victor Lewis's number, "Hello? Dr. Lewis,

later, the door to Ethan's room

you'd move her to your room when Vanessa is sick and should be resting in hers? Wait,

spotted Claire's pale face on the bed. His playful

treat criminals," he said, grabbing his medical bag and turning

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