Chapter 315 Comfort Is Useless

Chapter 315 Comfort Is Useless

My heart ached. I'd come to comfort him, but in the end, he was the one comforting me.

I struggled to get the words out. "I don't want to let go either, but…"

"I understand." He cut me off. "As for my mother, her condition was already terminal. I did everything I could, so I have no regrets. You don't need to feel regret either. And you definitely don't need to blame yourself."

Meanwhile, in the hospital room, Michael's eyes were bloodshot, and the violent energy radiating from him was almost tangible.

William's sudden announcement had completely derailed all his plans.

What should have been the critical moment for building hype around his and Evelyn's wedding had been completely overtaken by the news of "William's Mother's Death" dominating the trending topics.

He knew exactly what this was—William's deliberate counterattack aimed directly at him. Precise and ruthless.

Suppressing his fury, Michael opened his social media app and forced himself to reply to the flood of questions from users.

His finger slid across the screen, his gaze landing on the most glaring question: "Will you consider postponing your wedding with your wife?"

He let out a cold laugh. He'd roasted Evelyn alive over the flames of public opinion, and now William was giving him a taste of his own medicine, pushing him to the forefront of "moral coercion."

If he said "no," he'd immediately be labeled as "cold-blooded" and "unfilial." But if he went along with what people were saying, he'd be walking straight into William's trap.

After a moment of contemplation, Michael's fingers flew across the keyboard. A statement was quickly posted: "I am deeply saddened by the passing of my grandmother, Imogen. Moving forward, I will be accompanying my wife, Evelyn, to assist the Brown and Hayes families in arranging my grandmother's funeral, to fulfill my duty as her grandson."

He deliberately emphasized "my wife, Evelyn."

He wanted William to see it loud and clear—no matter what happened, only he had the right to appear publicly with Evelyn as her husband. No one else could even touch her.

I stayed at the Brown family home for less than an hour.

Seeing William put my mind at ease.

As I was leaving, Phoenix took my hand and urged, "It's already so late. Just stay the night. William can take you home in the morning."

I politely declined. "Grandma, Katya and Isabella are still asleep at home. If they wake up tomorrow and can't find me, they'll worry."

The truth was, I was afraid the paparazzi—or someone Michael hired—might be watching. If they caught me staying overnight at the Brown family home, who knew what kind of scandal would erupt?

William must have understood my concern. He said to Phoenix, "I'll drive her home."

Phoenix still looked uneasy. "What about Michael wanting to marry Evelyn? What are we going to do about that?"

I instinctively turned to look at William, my expression uncertain.

Earlier in the study, I'd just sat with him for a while. Aside from talking about his grandmother's final moments, we hadn't discussed anything else.

I knew William was grieving Imogen's sudden death, so I didn't want to bring up anything else that would upset him.

But in response to Phoenix's concern, William calmly said, "I have a plan. What you're worried about won't happen."

The car drove into the night. The cabin was quiet.

Even though William had reassured Phoenix earlier, I assumed those were just words to comfort her. I didn't take them seriously.

Halfway through the drive, William suddenly spoke. "Since he insists on marrying you, just agree to it."

I whipped my head around to look at him, my pupils contracting slightly. My voice was filled with disbelief. "What?"

In an instant, countless thoughts flooded my mind.

So… he was tired too. Was he giving up?

Even though I knew I could never agree to marry Michael, I still softly murmured, "Okay," so I wouldn't cause William any more trouble.

William's lips curved slightly. "Why do you look like a wet rag? I told you to agree to marry him, not to get back together with him."

I shot him a speechless look. "Is there a difference? Agreeing to marry him means getting back together, doesn't it?"

"Of course there's a difference."

His tone was calm but full of reassurance. "Whatever he asks for lately, as long as it's not too outrageous, just go along with it. Leave everything else to me."

I grew more confused the more I listened. Just as I was about to press him on what exactly he was planning, the car slowly came to a stop. We'd arrived at my apartment building.

William unbuckled my seatbelt for me, his voice softening. "Go on home. Don't overthink it. Just trust me."

His gaze was gentle yet firm. All my doubts suddenly melted away. I nodded and said, "Okay."

When I got home, my phone suddenly rang. It was Michael.

I took a deep breath and answered. His low voice came through the receiver, tinged with a commanding tone. "Imogen passed away. I assume you already know?"

William had already published the obituary. Everyone knew. But Michael was still playing this game, clearly implying something.

He must have thought William and I had conspired together to announce Imogen's death to derail his wedding plans.

My grip on the phone tightened. I didn't deny it, and I didn't bother explaining. I just asked coldly, "What about it?"

"The day after tomorrow is Imogen's funeral."

Michael said, "As her grandson and granddaughter-in-law, it wouldn't look right if we didn't attend."

I knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to use the funeral to solidify our "husband and wife" relationship in front of everyone—and especially in front of William.

My instinct was to refuse, but William's earlier advice suddenly echoed in my mind.

I forced myself to agree. "Got it."

There was a pause on the other end. A moment later, his slightly satisfied voice came through. "Good. I'll pick you up when the time comes."

Meanwhile, Michael hung up the phone and stared blankly at the darkened screen.

Why had Evelyn agreed so easily?

Given how much this woman resisted him, she used to snap back at everything he said. And now she was agreeing to be called his "granddaughter-in-law"—a label that practically bound them together for life?

But just now, she'd agreed.

Michael replayed Evelyn's tone from the phone call over and over in his mind.

She'd agreed, but the coldness in her voice wasn't fake. There was no softness of compromise—only a hard, indifferent detachment.

Just as he was lost in thought, steady footsteps sounded outside the hospital room, unhurried and deliberate.

Michael's head snapped up. Before he could react, the door swung open.

William stood in the doorway, dressed in a black suit that made his frame look even more imposing.

His face was expressionless, but there was a coldness buried deep in his eyes. His entire presence radiated an oppressive force.

Michael froze for a moment, then curled his lips into a mocking smile.

"What are you doing here? Did you come to personally inspect the results of your handiwork? Or… are you here to keep trying to steal my wife?"

William didn't take the bait. He walked slowly to the bedside, his gaze sweeping over the untouched porridge and medicine on the nightstand. His voice was as heavy as stagnant water. "I heard you drank yourself into a bleeding ulcer. Came to check on you."

He paused, his gaze returning to Michael's defiant face, his tone growing colder. "You can fight for the CEO position again if you lose it. But if you lose your life, you lose everything."