Five Years Wasted Now They Beg Her Back novel Chapter 388

This was his fate.

With a trembling hand, Alistair pointed to the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

It was something he had specifically asked his lawyer to bring over before his arrest.

"Get... get..."

Dorian wiped his tears and opened the drawer.

Inside lay an antique rosewood box, exquisitely crafted with an intricate floral crest carved into its surface.

The box looked very old.

"Is this for Grace?" Dorian asked.

Alistair nodded with all his might, a look of near-pleading in his eyes.

"Give... it to her..."

"I'm... sor... ry..."

Those were the hardest, and most sincere, words Alistair had ever spoken in his life.

Unfortunately, the person who needed to hear them was no longer there.

Dorian opened the box with trembling hands.

Inside, there was only a small, somewhat rusted locket, a faded baby rattle, and a yellowed piece of letter paper.

It was what Lauren Hawke had left behind.

"This is... Mom's?"

Dorian was shocked.

All these years, Sabrina had burned everything in the house related to Lauren Hawke. He never thought his father would have hidden these things away.

There was a time when Alistair had caressed Lauren Hawke's pregnant belly, dreaming of what their child would be like, smiling from ear to ear and vowing to make her the happiest little princess in the world.

When did it all change?

Was it when Sabrina moved in? Or was it when Lilian first called him "Daddy" in that sweet little voice?

She took the milk, her hands warming against the glass. "From the way Dorian was talking, you'd think he was announcing his death."

"So what do you think?" Damien looked down at her, his long fingers gently combing through her hair. "If you want to cry, go ahead. This suit is expensive, but I'll reluctantly lend it to you as a tissue."

His words made the corners of her mouth twitch. "Mr. Clarke, you're so stingy. You're worth hundreds of billions and you're worried about one suit?"

"This is different. Mrs. Clarke picked this one out for me this morning. I'd be upset if it got dirty," Damien said, spouting nonsense with a perfectly straight face.

Grace took a sip of milk. The warm liquid slid down her throat and into her stomach, spreading a gentle warmth.

"I'm not sad, really."

She stared at the TV screen, her gaze distant. "I just find it... ironic."

"I used to desperately seek his approval. For just one word of praise, I would have torn my heart out to show him."

"Now that I don't care anymore, now that I wish I could sever all ties with them, he wants to see me on his deathbed. It's ridiculous."

"On what grounds?"

Grace's voice turned cold. "On what grounds does he get to abuse me when he wants, and then expect me to accept his repentance when he's ready? Am I a garbage dump?"