Chapter 66 The Name Shouted in the Dream
Sloane's POV
"Oh my God, how dare you ask who I am? I'm Aria's son!" He raised his voice, pointing at me self-righteously. "My mom worked so hard to raise you, and what did you do? You climbed into some man's bed and forgot all about her! If you'd given us some money earlier and replaced that crappy van at the orphanage, would she have gotten into that accident? Bottom line—you're the one who killed her!"
His cruel words targeted my deepest insecurity.
The guilt and regret I'd barely managed to suppress came flooding back instantly, drowning me completely.
"That's not true!" Lila stepped forward angrily to argue. "The director's accident was just that—an accident. How is it Sloane's fault?"
"How is it not her fault? If she had any conscience, would my mom have had to drive that piece of junk to the city herself to save a few hundred bucks on delivery?" The man got more worked up as he spoke, spitting as he talked, his ugly expression making me physically sick.
My pale face and silence encouraged him. He got more aggressive and pointed right at me. "You ungrateful piece of trash! My mom wasted her time raising you!"
Then he actually raised his hand and swung it toward my face.
I was so shocked by his words that my whole body went cold—I forgot to dodge.
The expected pain never came.
A hand with distinct knuckles caught his wrist mid-air.
Jared had somehow positioned himself in front of me, his tall figure completely shielding me, the murderous aura radiating from him dropping the temperature of the entire space to freezing.
"Try touching her one more time." Jared's voice was cold as ice. He didn't even look back at me, his eyes fixed deadly on the man, his gaze vicious enough to tear him apart.
The man's wrist made cracking sounds in Jared's grip. He grimaced in pain, his face turning white. "Who... who are you? Let go! This is our family business!"
"Family business?" Jared let out a cold laugh and suddenly applied more force.
With a scream of pain, the man was mercilessly thrown aside, landing on the ground in a pathetic heap.
Jared stepped forward, looking down at him from above, the tip of his leather shoe pressing against the man's chest, his tone full of undisguised threat and killing intent. "I don't care who you are. If I hear you say one more word to hurt her, I'll make you disappear from this world."
The man was terrified by his intimidating presence, lying on the ground trembling, not daring to say another word.
Then David walked over. He glanced at the person on the ground, a trace of contempt crossing his face.
He turned to me, explaining gently, "Sloane, don't listen to his nonsense. I looked into this guy—he's the son the director had when she made a mistake in her youth. He's been trouble since childhood, spent all these years messing around outside, racked up a pile of gambling debts. The director cut ties with him long ago. He came here today just to extort money."
David's words were like a beam of light, dispersing the thick fog of guilt that had settled over my heart.
Hearing David's words, the man on the ground's face instantly turned ashen. He struggled to get up from the floor, and seeing the hostile looks from our side, he ultimately didn't dare say anything and slunk away.
When the funeral ended, it started to rain.
Shrouding the entire world in wet, cold sadness.
I stood in front of the freshly erected tombstone, looking at her gentle smile in that black and white photo, so choked up I could barely breathe.
It felt like I'd been abandoned by the whole world all over again.
A black umbrella opened above my head, blocking out the cold rain.
Jared stood beside me, more than half his body exposed to the rain. His expensive suit's shoulder quickly became soaked, the color darkening like ink.
He stood somewhat awkwardly, as if wanting to be closer to me but afraid of touching the sharp spines I'd raised.
I didn't move or speak, just greedily breathed in the air mixed with the scent of earth and grass, as if that could bring me closer to her.
Through the curtain of rain, at the edge of the distant woods, there seemed to be a blurry figure holding a black umbrella, watching from afar. That silhouette inexplicably felt familiar.
I instinctively wanted to see more clearly, but Jared suddenly took half a step forward, his tall frame perfectly blocking my view.
"The wind's picking up. Let's go back." His deep voice came from beside me, carrying undeniable concern. "You look terrible. You'll get sick."
I withdrew my gaze, not looking at that blurry figure again, dismissing it as a hallucination brought on by excessive grief.
He was right. I couldn't fall apart.
The orphanage still had a pile of things waiting for me to handle.
Back at the orphanage, Director Aria's office remained exactly as she'd left it.
Her reading glasses on the desk, half-drunk tea, and an open notebook recording each child's recent health status and preferences.
I walked over, my fingertips lightly brushing those familiar objects, my eyes starting to burn again.
"The orphanage can't be without a director." Jared's voice broke the silence. He handed me a document. "I've screened several candidates—all people with excellent reputations and abilities in the field. Take a look and choose someone you trust."
I looked at him, at the red veins in his eyes and the blue stubble on his chin, my heart a jumble of emotions.
While I was still a complete mess, he'd already paved all the paths forward for me.
"I want to do it myself." I took the document but didn't open it, my voice hoarse but firm. "Until a new director takes over, I'll handle the orphanage's affairs."
He looked at me deeply, didn't object, just nodded. "Okay. Whatever you need, tell me anytime."
That night, I slept in the small single bed in the director's room. The blanket still carried that faint scent of soap from her body.
But I found no peace.
I had a very, very long nightmare.
In the dream was that fire—rolling smoke, scorching heat waves, and heart-wrenching cries all around.
I was trapped in the ruins, a red-hot beam teetering above me, death's shadow engulfing me.
"Grayson... Grayson, save me!" I cried out desperately, reaching out my hand over and over, trying to grasp that hand that had once pulled me from darkness.
"Grayson!"A thunderclap exploded outside the window, jolting me awake from the suffocating nightmare.
I sat up abruptly, gasping for air, cold sweat soaking through my pajamas, my whole body freezing.
The room had no lights on—only the occasional flash of lightning outside the window, casting brief moments of pale white light.
In that fleeting illumination, I saw a figure sitting by my bed.