NovelBookChapter 1120 Carrie's eyes flickered, catching sight of a sleek ambulance parked beyond the cluster of police cars. Its open door revealed a mobile sanctuary, outfitted with cutting-edge medical gear that rivaled any hospital's emergency ward.
Kristopher trailed close behind, his steps quickening to match their pace. Noticing the female doctors waiting inside the ambulance, Reece gently eased Carrie into their care, his hands lingering a moment before stepping back. He did not climb aboard.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtKristopher exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he slowed his approach.
Reece shut the ambulance door with a soft thud, the tension draining from his frame. Fatigue settled in, heavy and unyielding. He leaned against the vehicle's cool metal side, fishing a cigarette box from his pocket with a faint tremble in his fingers.
A hand appeared-strong, knuckles prominent-offering a lighter. The flsparked to life, and Reece cupped it instinctively, shielding the flicker as he brought the cigarette to his lips.
He inhaled deeply, the ember glowing red, and released a slow plof smoke into the night air.
He glanced at Kristopher, his voice low but warm. "Thanks." Kristopher said nothing, instead propping himself against the ambulance beside Reece. He lit his own cigarette, the flcasting shadows across his angular face. After a moment, he spoke, his tone casual yet deliberate. "Ran into a garbage truck on my way here. Something about it felt wrong, so I tailed it." The explanation bordered on absurd, the kind of story that would raise eyebrows in any other setting.
Reece, though, did not question it. His eyes narrowed, studying Kristopher's face. "Your memory," he said quietly, "is it back?" He locked his gaze on Kristopher's dark, unreadable eyes, searching for a flicker of truth, a crack in the mask. 1@F€$† ¢#4PT€®$ 1# galKristopher leaned against the vehicle, exhaling a delicate ring of smoke that curled around his chiseled features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw. Reece observed him quietly, his arms crossed. He had to concede that Kristopher and Carrie were a striking pair, their appearances almost too perfectly matched. It was not merely their beauty-others possessed that in spades--but the way their presences mirrored each other, both radiating a cool, aristocratic grace that seemed to hum in unison.
A flicker of sorrow crossed Kristopher's face, brief as a passing shadow. He lowered his eyes, his long lashes veiling the storm within.
He let out a soft breath, almost a murmur. "No," he said.
Reece, not one for sentiment, felt an unexpected pang. He stepped closer and clapped a hand on Kristopher's shoulder, the gesture awkward but sincere. He could not fully grasp Kristopher's pain, yet the mere thought of having a piece of his mind stolen, of others exploiting that void, sent a shiver down his spine. He reflected on his own fortune, born into the Morrison family's solid embrace. Even Carrie, a cousin long estranged, had proven herself not just untainted but exceptional, even outshining him. He never needed to worry about being used by his own family.
Reece's thoughts drifted to the years when Carrie had been bound to Kristopher in marriage, trapped in the Norris family's web. Billie's venomous treatment of her own son painted a grim picture of what Carrie must have endured as her daughter-in-law.
The realization twisted in Reece's gut, snuffing out any fleeting sympathy he had felt for Kristopher.
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