Year Five The Perfect Goodbye Plan novel Chapter 223

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Silvia had lost count of how many times she’d heard Kent say those words.

Yet, every single time, they worked a kind of magic—settling her nerves, dissolving whatever danger she thought she was in, making the world feel safe again.

She blinked up at Kent, gazing at him as if he were the only solid thing in the room.

Just a few feet away, Shipley was sprawled on the floor, still groaning after Kent had yanked him by the collar and slammed him down. The man’s low, pained whimpers filled the silence.

But Kent seemed utterly unfazed by Shipley’s cries. His attention was fixed on Silvia, and seeing her frozen in place, he assumed she was terrified. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out, intending to draw her toward him.

Before he could touch her, Silvia suddenly stood. She lifted her arms, her beautiful eyes locked on Kent’s, and then, without another word, she stepped into his embrace.

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. Her voice quivered as she whispered, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Not long ago, she’d been buying time the only way she could—reopening her own wounds, showing them again and again to Shipley to keep him distracted and at bay.

Just when despair had threatened to swallow her, Kent had appeared.

Thinking back on all the moments she’d shared with Kent, Silvia almost laughed. Time and again, he had managed to pull her out of the messes she found herself trapped in. In a way, she owed him her life.

Kent stiffened for a moment, feeling the softness of her body pressed into his, but quickly gathered her into his arms, as if determined to pass his own warmth to her frozen skin.

On the floor, Shipley was still grimacing and cursing under his breath. Kent hadn’t held back when he threw him, and Shipley had crashed into a planter. Now, shards of pottery had cut into his skin, leaving blood streaked across his shirt and hands.

But clearly, her words went unheard. Shipley was too busy nursing his wounds to care about her newfound freedom.

He tried to get up, one hand pressed to his side, the other bracing against the floor. But he’d landed hard on his tailbone, and every movement sent pain shooting through him. Standing was nearly impossible.

Kent and Silvia watched his pitiful struggle in silence.

The humiliation burned inside Shipley. He glared at Silvia, his jaw clenched. “I’m hurt, Silvia. I feel awful. Sweetheart, help your big brother, will you?”

He said it with such entitlement, as if Silvia owed him her care.

Kent couldn’t help but smirk, a flicker of contempt in his eyes, as Shipley tried to order Silvia around right in front of him.