Chapter 226

"What?" Brandon blinked, momentarily thrown off.

What was Eugene talking about? Millie's medical files?

"Mr. Watson, when I went to the archive to get Miss Simpson's files earlier, I mentioned your name as her emergency contact." Eugene said. "The clerk at the desk probably made a mistake and also pulled up Miss Bennett's records."

Brandon's brow furrowed as his gaze dropped to the papers in front of him.

"So you're telling me. These are Millie's medical records from her visits here?" he asked slowly.

Eugene exhaled slowly. "I wasn't certain at first either," he said with a nod. "But after reviewing the details, there's no doubt. Miss Bennett began

..treatment here more than a year ago."

He hesitated, his eyes shifting toward Brandon with a trace of unease. "She's been seriously ill."

Brandon felt as if the world around him had tilted.

None of it seemed real.

He reached forward and took the stack of documents from Eugene.

Without another word, Eugene stepped back and went to take care of other tasks, leaving Brandon standing alone in the hushed corridor.

Brandon took a deep breath and began flipping through the recordds.

The notes weren't filled with personal accounts. They only charted the steady decline of her health, the treatments attempted, and the medications prescribed.

But the dates...

His knees felt weak, and he sank into the nearest

bench, eyes lifting to the sterile white ceiling glowing under fluorescentlight.

Every entry pointed to the same thing-her condition was getting worse each time she came in.

In the later reports, the doctor had even considered contacting her family despite her constant refusal to involve them.

One note stood out. Two months ago, her condition had taken a sharp turn for the worse.

It was the exact time when they had been stuck in the court-ordered waiting period before their divorce.

And during those days, she had a few accidents and had been in the hospital.

He had never gone to see her.

And then came...

The auction.

Brandon shut his eyes, and a sharp ache spread

through his chest.

How could he ever fight her over that tanzanite for Vivian's sake? That was the birthstone she had chosen for their future child.

The thought clawed at him until it was almost unbearable.

He kept reading the medical records, going through them again and again. His hands shook as he gripped the pages tightly.

The notes showed that she had refused the medication at first. Later, she had told the doctor she was willing to take it.

The timing lined up exactly with their first trip to the courthouse.

Now he understood.

After losing the child in Flesta, the grief had carved a wound so deep that neither of them could escape it.They had both longed for another.

She must have refused the medication because she desperately wanted to conceive a child.

His fists curled, trembling harder.

But it was that night when she had finally given up on him completely.

He couldn't even recall the exact words he had thrown at her.

What he did remember was mentioning the divorce.

She had looked straight at him and asked, "Does it have to be like this?"

"And what about me?" she had asked him.

Her voice had stayed steady when she asked again,"Are you sure this is what you want?"

And finally, she had only said, "Alright."

Four short lines. Three of them seeking an answer.

Was the last one agreement, or was it surrender?

Why hadn't he seen it then?

When he thought back to that night, all he could remember was the heat of their bodies tangled together and the irritation that surged in him when he mentioned divorce.

He hadn't realized it was her last attempt to hold on to him.

Her last chance.

The sharp smell of disinfectant clung to the corridor.His tears struck the pages, one drop after another.

Brandon's grip on the documents shook, the pages quivering in his hands.

For the first time in his life, he understood what real regret felt like.

If only he had seen it back then.

If only he had taken the last chance she had offered him.Would everything be different now?

Her voice from that day in the sunflower field still rang in his ears.

"Brandon, we each have someone we care for now.""Look ahead. Hold on to the people by your side.""Stop hurting those who love you like you did to me."

And he could still remember her words from the charity gala, when they had stood together on the terrace garden.

"Mr. Watson, you shouldn't let your concern reach past your partner, or else you'lI only end up betraying her." "That kind of thing would only break her heart."

"Some people hardly matter, Mr. Watson, but some really do. And if someone important chooses to walk away, you might never get a second chance."

It was him. He was the one who had kept wounding her, over and over, until sadness was all she had left.

She had been so broken, and so sick, yet she had told no one. She had tried to treat herself quietly,without drawing attention. Because they had both wanted a child, she had refused to take the medication that could have helped her.

Meanwhile, Vivian had pretended to be depressed just to pull his focus toward her and keep herself from being blamed.

The truth was brutal-Millie was the one who had been truly ill.

If that employee in the archive hadn't made that careless mistake, Brandon would still be in the dark.

While she was fighting her illness, what had he been doing?

A bitter laugh slipped from his lips.

He had been making it worse for her, adding to the weight she was already carrying.

In fact, it was his fault she had fallen ill in the first place.

Brandon flipped through the records, searching for the date of her first appointment.

And then he began searching his own memory, trying to pinpoint what had happened during that time.

Something that must have broken her completely driving her to seek help when the symptoms could no longer be ignored.

Brandon's thoughts wandered, pulling up memories one after another.

It felt as though time itself was moving backward.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized she had been pulling away from him little by little.

Eventually, he could pinpoint the exact moment when something in her had changed.

Her eyes, once filled entirely with him, had begun to lose their light. The warmth had faded, replaced by quiet disappointment. And eventually, she had let go for good.

It had been about a year ago. She had come to him holding her phone, saying they needed to talk.

"Brandon, she sent me a message." She had been wearing a long white dress that day, her hair smooth and flowing over her shoulders. She looked calm on

the surface, but her voice carried a faint edge.

Holding out her phone, she remarked, "Brandon,I need you to explain this. I've been hearing rumors about you and that florist, Vivian. And now she's messaged me herself. It's a direct provocation."

He had barely glanced at the screen before irritation flared.

"She didn't need to send you anything. Millie, what's going on with you lately? You're always like this. Do you know how exhausting it is?"

"This is the message she sent me. And you think I'm overreacting?" Her eyes had reddened as she pressed on. "I keep getting messages from her... with photos of you dining together, going out together,and other things."

Her voice had grown sharper. "Brandon, my husband is surrounded by gossip, and a woman like that has the nerve to provoke me directly. How am I supposed to just ignore it?"

"Millie, | told you l've been busy," he replied,struggling to keep his temper in check.

But she wouldn't let him walk away. She wanted an answer.

At the time, Brandon had been hearing about Darden's own mess-how his girlfriend was throwing fits and threatening to harm herself just to get his attention. Darden had complained to him over drinks more than once.

That was when another thought crept into Brandon's mind.

"Millie, are you having someone send you those photos and pretending they came from Vivian? Just so you can confront me?"

"What did you just say?"

Even now, he could still see the color draining from her face in his memory, and the way her eyes filled with disbelief and hurt.