Echoes of a Forsaken Heart novel Chapter 135

Hamilton knew, deep down, that saying sorry was useless right now, but that seemed to be all he could offer.

Eveleen had been his saving grace. No one knew the ordeals he had faced when he arrived at that quaint fishing town—how he had brushed with death more than once. The first few times at the hands of his mother, and then later, by his own hand.

It was only in that serene hamlet by the sea that a flicker of desire to live sparked within him.

Though the details of his past had blurred through therapy, the name "Evi" was etched in his mind like a sacred incantation.

She was his redemption.

In such a state, he couldn't just abandon Eveleen. Yet he hadn't anticipated dragging Natalia into such peril.

Hamilton gripped Natalia's hand, his gaze falling upon her pale, fragile face, feeling a weight in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Every time he blinked, he saw her lifeless body sprawled on the jagged rocks.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, they were drained of emotion. His long fingers traced the wet trail on her cheek.

In a hushed voice, he said, "Natalia, don't be scared. I'm here."

It took a while, but Natalia finally calmed down.

Hamilton fetched a warm towel and gently wiped her face. His movements halted as he dabbed her hands; the wounds were still there, even if the dislocated wrist had been attached.

Carefully avoiding the cuts, he finished and tucked her hand beneath the blanket before standing up and stepping outside.

Alden was waiting at the door.

"Did you find Orpheus?" Hamilton asked, his voice low.

Alden shook his head. "He's hiding out somewhere, the bold bastard. To think he'd abduct Ms. Jenkins in broad daylight! If it weren't for Ryan and Dawson, Ms. Jenkins might've been out of luck."

Hamilton let out a bitter laugh. "If they hadn't intervened, Natalia wouldn't have been in danger."

Alden paused, considering Hamilton's implication.

Without Ryan and Dawson's presence, Orpheus would have had to contact Hamilton, who would have surely found a way to keep Natalia safe.

"But they just wanted to save Ms. Jenkins. Who knew the situation would push a desperate man to the edge?"

Hamilton took a cigarette from Alden and lit it before replying, "That's why I'm not holding a grudge against them."

Alden's lips moved, but he seemed lost for words. "And Orpheus?"

A flash of steely resolve crossed Hamilton's eyes. "Keep looking. Bring him to me when you find him."

"Alright." After a deep breath, Alden carefully broached another subject. "Bro, can you and Ms. Jenkins make it right?"

He had a feeling that their relationship might have reached a point of no return.

Hamilton's indifference was evident. "Why not?"

As long as he refused to let go, she couldn't leave. And he had no intention of letting her slip away.

Alden frowned, troubled. "Bro, you never really liked Eveleen, did you? It's always been Ms. Jenkins. Otherwise, you wouldn't cling to this point."

The ferocity in Hamilton's eyes when Ryan had carried Natalia away was something Alden had never seen before.

Just a simple embrace. If there were no feelings involved, why would Hamilton care so much?

At that moment, Alden even saw panic in his brother's eyes—the kind of panic that comes from fearing the loss of someone dear.

Hamilton took a drag on his cigarette and, without answering, simply stated, "Alden, I won't get attached to anyone."

After snuffing out his cigarette, he turned back into the hospital room.

Ryan had come by a few times, initially intending to talk to Hamilton, but he eventually felt it wasn't his place to meddle in their affairs.

With Natalia still unconscious, any conversation with Hamilton would be incomplete without considering her feelings.

So, he let it be.

But he was resolved to help if Natalia asked once she awoke.

Natalia slept for a full day and night before regaining consciousness.

Upon waking, she was still somewhat disoriented. But before she could collect her thoughts, a familiar voice asked, "You’re awake?"

That voice, which once stirred so much within her, now left her unmoved.

"Mhm," she murmured softly.

"Are you in pain? I'll call the doctor for you."

Only then did Natalia realize that Hamilton had been holding her hand. She averted her gaze, showing no reaction.

After a check-up, the doctor advised, "You're awake, but you still need to recover from the lung infection and bruising. Rest is key."

"Okay, thank you," Natalia responded politely.

Once the doctor left, Hamilton returned to her bedside, instinctively reaching for her hand again.

But he grasped at air.

Natalia had subtly withdrawn from him.

Hamilton's expression darkened momentarily, but he understood her anger was justified and simply asked, "Does it hurt?"

Natalia kept her eyes closed, taking a long time before answering, "It's bearable."

She was in pain; her whole body felt dismantled and reassembled, even breathing hurt. But she didn't want to share that with him anymore. Her suffering, her discomfort would all be irrelevant to him from now on.

Hamilton's fingers gently brushed her face.

"Really? Then who was it that kept crying out in pain in her sleep, clinging to my hand?"

Natalia remained silent.

Hamilton could feel the chill in her demeanor. He paused, then softly said, "Natalia, I'm sorry."

It was hard for Natalia to describe what she felt hearing that apology. She could tell Hamilton was genuinely remorseful, but whether it was true or not, it didn't seem to matter anymore.

What she needed was never the mere pittance of guilt or the hollow attempts at making amends that always came too late.

She was done with it all.

"Forget it, Mr. Fowler. Your 'sorry' means nothing to me," she said with a dismissive wave.

The formality of 'Mr. Fowler' stung Hamilton like a needle.

"What did you call me?" he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Natalia remained silent, her message clear without further words.

Hamilton's face twisted with anger. "I admit I didn't think things through this time, but don't worry, I'll make it up to you, Natalia. I won't let you suffer for nothing."

But Natalia only paused for a moment, lifting her gaze to meet Hamilton's eyes. Her look was full of icy mockery. The hurt she suffered at the hands of Orpheus might be quantifiable, but the wounds inflicted by Hamilton? Who would come and settle that account?

She let out a hollow laugh and said, "Hamilton, let's call it quits."

Natalia declared it plainly, keeping her burning anguish locked away inside.

Hamilton's face grew dark, and after what felt like an eternity, he managed to say, "Let's not talk about this now. Get better first."

Then, after a pause, he added, "Are you hungry? I'll go grab you something to eat."

He stood up and headed for the door.

Natalia, fighting through the pain in her chest, called out to him. "Hamilton, what do you really want?"

He stopped in his tracks, turned around, and faced her eyes, now watery with pain.

His expression was as gloomy as it could get. "Natalia, do I really need to spell it out for you? I'm not letting you go!"