Chapter 117.

Chapter 117.
117\. Rachael.

The next page was blank, and the next and the next. Just like that, the diary entries were empty and I was left with a hollow feeling in my body.
Nathan gently placed an arm on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, that must be when they had an accident. That must be why your mother never placed another entry again."

"Or, I could tell you the whole story." Lyanna appeared at the doorway. Ethan slowly sat up, rubbed his face and yawned.

"Lyanna, you were there. You know what happened, right?" I demanded, my voice firm and insistent. I needed to know the truth, and I needed it straight from Lyanna's mouth. The usual cheerfulness she possessed was almost non-existent, replaced by a sombre expression that told me something was very wrong.

As she turned to the two men in my room, her eyes were filled with a deep sadness. Ethan's shoulders were tense, like he knew something was coming, something that wouldn't be easy to hear. And honestly, we could all guess what was wrong. Lyanna's face gave it all away, the lines of worry etched on her forehead, the downturned corners of her mouth.

"What about my father?" Ethan asked, his voice low and cautious. He seemed to know that the news wouldn't be good, that Lyanna's presence here wasn't just a coincidence.

Lyanna shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. "Your father has demanded to see all of you, one last time," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's awake, but he doesn't have long." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

The realisation that Edgar Frost was going to be the next person to die hit me like a train, and I nearly faltered in my steps. I felt a wave of grief wash over me, mixed with a sense of shock and denial. How could this be happening? Edgar Frost, the man who had always been there, who had always been a presence in our lives, was dying. It was hard to accept, hard to process.

As I looked at Ethan and Nathan, I saw the same emotions reflected back at me although they were more composed. We were all in shock, all struggling to come to terms with the news.

"Take us to our father," Nathan took the lead, as the eldest son. He stood strong, never showing weakness.

"Sure, please follow me." Lyanna led us all the way to Edgar's bedroom.

A ventilator was present among several beeping machines that struggled to keep Edgar Frost alive, a testament to the medical team's efforts to prolong his life. The room was filled with the steady hum of machinery, a stark contrast to the frailty of the man lying in the bed. Edgar Frost looked very weak and fragile compared to the strong, imposing figure I knew. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken, and his once-strong frame now seemed gaunt and vulnerable.

"Father..." Nathan muttered as he entered the room, his voice barely above a whisper. The sound of his voice seemed to stir Edgar Frost, and he slowly opened his eyes. They were cloudy, but they sparkled with a hint of recognition as he gazed at his sons.

Edgar Frost raised a hand to his oxygen mask, his movements laboured and deliberate. "It seems I couldn't dodge this bullet," he said, his voice weak but determined. "My organs have been poisoned, I don't have much time..." The words were laced with resignation, a sense of acceptance that his time was drawing to a close.

As he spoke, the machines surrounding him seemed to beep more urgently, as if echoing the sense of urgency in his words. The air was thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of his mortality bearing down on us. Edgar Frost's eyes locked onto his sons, and I could see the love and concern etched on his face. Despite his frailty, his spirit remained unbroken, and he seemed determined to impart some final words of wisdom to his children.

The room fell silent, the only sound the steady beep of the machines and Edgar Frost's laboured breathing. We all knew that time was running out, and that every moment counted. Nathan and Ethan exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve.

"Be strong, father. Save your breath—there has to be a way to save you," Ethan said.

Edgar Frost laughed weakly until it turned into an uncontrollable cough. Lyanna went and wiped his face before he took deep breaths from the oxygen. "I have come to reveal the truth, and what really happened that night, the day your father and mother left this world. I trust Lyanna handed you your mother's diary right?"

"Yes, she did." I struggled to keep it together. "I stopped at her last entry, right before she left with my father."

"Indeed. I will take it if you are angry that I played a part in your parent's death."

"No, you were manipulated by Sirius Dark. The entry says it—" I sobbed.

"No, I did play a part," Edgar's voice was barely above a whisper, and it danced with effort as he struggled to speak. Lyanna stayed by his side, her hand clasped tightly in his, offering what little comfort she could. "I'm the one that sent the team to take them down, when you were handed over to Jonathan Myers." The words tumbled out, laced with regret and guilt.

Edgar's eyes seemed to cloud over, as if memories were flooding back, memories he had tried to keep buried. "I—I thought they might have sent you to one of my enemies, that's why I crashed their car, hoping to kill you." The admission was painful, and I could see the weight of his guilt bearing down on him. He had thought he was protecting his son, but in reality, he had

The machines surrounding him seemed to beep more urgently, as if echoing the turmoil in his chest. Edgar's voice was weak, but his words were laced with conviction. "I thought you died, I never knew Jonathan would take care of you." A hint of surprise crept into his voice, surprise that Jonathan Myers, a man he had deemed a safe haven, would actually care for his son.

"Jonathan was a hunter, he did business with the werewolves, so it was never easy to find him," Edgar continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "When I heard that you were alive and well, I decided to redeem myself and take care of you because our enemies knew of your existence." The determination in his voice was palpable, a sense of purpose that had driven him to make amends for his past mistakes.

As he spoke, Lyanna's grip on his hand tightened, offering what little comfort she could.

"I wish you can find in your hands to forgive me, I'm very sorry, Rachael Quincy. Your mother and father were the best researchers in our kingdom, looking at your reminds me more of her."