The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 388

After Petty and Aaron left, the whole apartment felt too big and too quiet. The only sounds drifting through the space came from the TV in the living room, the laughter and chatter of people playing games. The dining room, by comparison, was silent.

Franco took off his mask, peeled away the fake scar from the corner of his mouth, and sat in front of three freshly plated dishes. Without a word, he picked up his chopsticks and started to eat.

The spice in the food went straight to his nose, making him cough. He chased it with a bite of rice, then coughed again. He sipped his soup, tried to soothe the burn, but it didn’t help much. The sky outside darkened as he sat there, tall and silent, stubbornly finishing every last bite even while the heat made him cough again and again.

When he finished, Franco grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and drank the whole thing in one go. Then he checked his phone and found a message from one of the bodyguards outside, sent over ten minutes ago: Franco, Petty and her friend have left.

His eyes narrowed, going a shade darker. He leaned back in the chair, pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, and lit up. His gaze dropped to his own feet, studying the pale blue slippers he wore, his thoughts far away.

Only the dining room lights were on in the whole place, leaving the rest of the apartment in shadow. Franco sat in that small island of light, a solitary figure in a silent house.

The night outside was still.

Down in the basement, Laura sat with her back against the wall, eyes closed and lips pressed together. Her lower back ached, a dull throb that hadn’t let up since she woke up. She thought back to the group of medical staff who had shown up without warning. Whatever they’d done to her, she knew it hadn’t been their idea. It had to be Franco’s order.

She glanced at her forearm and spotted a tiny dot, evidence of a needle. She couldn’t figure out why her back still hurt, but the mark told her they’d taken her blood.

Did Franco really think he could find an antidote that way? Was he that desperate?

She chuckled, but the sound was broken and full of tired sadness. Franco, you promised me a public statement to clear things up. Did you ever mean it? It was all a lie, wasn’t it?

It didn’t matter. The scientist who made the poison was gone, long dead. The only antidote in the world was in her hands, and she had no plans to give it up. As long as she kept that secret, no one would get the cure.

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