Chapter 105 She Chose His Dream
Emma's hand gripping the box cutter remained steady, her eyes blazing with the fierce determination of someone with nothing left to lose.
"Matthew, you know that when I've made up my mind about something, no one can stop me." Her voice was quiet but crystal clear, carrying the finality of mutual destruction. "I know exactly what kind of wound would kill someone fastest. If you don't want me to die right here, let me go."
Matthew completely panicked. Seeing the thin red line the blade had pressed against her neck, his heart felt like it would leap from his throat.
"Okay! Okay! I'll let you go! I won't force you!" He quickly raised both hands, showing he posed no threat. "Emma, put the knife down first! Please, put it down!"
Emma's gaze remained ice-cold, unwavering. "Have Sheryl bring me the Formula 13 serum."
"Yes! Yes! I'll have her bring it right away!"
Matthew immediately grabbed the intercom, his voice trembling as he gave the order.
Within moments, Sheryl rushed in carrying a small medical-grade cooler, her face turning deathly pale at the scene before her.
Inside the container, a purple-red vial glowed with an eerie coldness under the low temperature—Formula 13.
"Emma! What's wrong? Please... please be careful, don't hurt yourself!" Sheryl cried out in concern, her voice breaking.
Emma didn't look at her, keeping her gaze locked on Matthew. She reached out and took the cooler.
Then, step by step, she backed toward the door. Only when she reached the threshold did she suddenly turn and bolt out.
Matthew collapsed onto the couch, his face ashen, veins bulging at his temples.
Burning with fury, he snarled, "Have someone tail her! Tomorrow—no matter what—she must be brought away!"
Sheryl nodded quickly and hurried out after her.
Emma practically flew out of the Moore Group building.
Her steps were rapid and urgent, her heels clicking against the pavement with desperate haste.
She quickly hailed a taxi and dove inside. "Sir, to Dreamy Garden, please hurry!"
As the car pulled away, she kept looking back anxiously, clutching the silver metal cooler tightly. The serum inside was too important—she was terrified Matthew might chase after her to steal it.
At the Moore Group entrance, two black-suited bodyguards rushed out, clearly intending to pursue her.
Suddenly, a figure approached at an unhurried pace.
It was a woman in sleek black leather, her tall frame accentuated by a high ponytail that cut sharp arcs through the air with each movement.
Just three punches and two kicks, movements so fast they left only afterimages.
The two previously menacing bodyguards lay flat on the ground like discarded ragdolls.
The woman didn't even spare them a glance before disappearing around the corner.
Hannah Nguyen.
Nicholas's shadow, sent to protect Emma.
The taxi pulled up smoothly at Dreamy Garden's entrance. Emma paid the fare and hurried inside.
The moment she entered this familiar territory, her nerves, taut as wire all the way here, began to slowly, gradually relax.
She walked along the familiar cobblestone path.
The air carried a faint floral fragrance. Turning past a decorative archway, the view opened up dramatically.
A pristine white garden spread before her eyes.
Emma's steps came to an abrupt halt. She stood frozen, eyes slightly widening.
This garden.
Hadn't he burned it down? Had he replanted it?
And it was maintained even more beautifully, more carefully than before.
Those pure white lilies swayed gently in the breeze, releasing their intoxicating fragrance.
On either side of the flower beds stood two enormous fan-shaped decorative wooden frames, arranged with various colorful flowers of different species, all planted in hand-painted pots featuring exquisite designs.
Brilliant purples, delicate pinks, bright yellows, and rare lavender hues.
Each pot clearly contained expensive varieties, worth a fortune.
His devotion to Zoe truly ran deep!
Emma's eyes instantly turned cold as ice. Something seemed to block her chest, leaving her feeling suffocated.
"Ma'am, you're back."
The butler had somehow appeared, jogging over to stand respectfully nearby, his voice carrying careful caution.
"Mr. Harrison is in the bedroom."
Emma snapped back to reality and handed him the cooler she'd been clutching.
"Please put this in the refrigeration unit immediately." Her voice betrayed no emotion. "Watch it personally. No one is to go near it, understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." The butler carefully took the heavy cooler, nodding solemnly before hurrying away.
Emma took a deep breath and began walking slowly, step by step, toward the main house.
The lily fragrance penetrated her nostrils intensely.
Though it had once been her favorite scent, now it made her eyes sting with unshed tears.
She had walked this path countless times before, each time filled with excitement and anticipation.
Only this time, each step felt like treading on red-hot nails.
Sharp pain shot from her feet straight to her heart, dense and endless.
No longer did Emma's mind overflow with the intense, consuming love of the past.
In its place was her bone-deep hatred for him.
Her memories conjured his tender expression when confessing to Zoe, those dancing pink petals, beautiful yet piercing.
She remembered him defending Karen with the cold, ruthless face of someone prepared to fight the world; and his bloodshot eyes, demanding viciously whether she had leaked company data, his expression demonic in its ferocity.
Scene after scene, incident after incident.
Without realizing it, the hatred between them had accumulated so much, so deeply, that it threatened to consume her entirely.
Suddenly, her steps halted. She could move no further forward. How she hated this man!
Emma felt as if all strength had been drained from her body. Even standing became impossible.
She slowly crouched down, hands clasped, resting helplessly against her forehead. Her eyes reddened uncontrollably, burning acidic sensations rushing to her nose.
Just as she was about to be overwhelmed by that crushing despair and hatred, another scene suddenly burst into her mind, Jeffrey's vegetable garden.
In the morning light, Nicholas watching that elderly couple supporting each other, watching that patch of thriving vegetables.
Emma had asked him, "Do you want to save him?"
He had answered, "Yes, but I'm not God. Medicine has its boundaries. Even Dr. N can't save everyone."
She had asked again, "If you were Dr. N, what would you do?"
He had answered decisively, "Release the formula! Screen qualified pharmaceutical companies for licensing. Let all qualified hospitals participate in clinical trials. Save as many as possible!"
Those words echoed clearly in her ears, one by one.
Emma slowly lifted her face, forcing back the moisture gathering in her eyes.
Yes!
That was his dream.
FD... FD was his gift of hope and love to all families struggling in the grip of illness.
This love shouldn't be stopped by Emma's personal vendettas and romantic entanglements.
She took a deep breath. The crushing weight that had nearly broken her seemed to be supported by something.
She stood up again, lifted her feet, and continued toward the main house.
Pushing open the master bedroom door, inside was dim darkness, with only a sliver of light filtering through the pale blue curtains from the balcony.
She saw him—that figure sitting in the corner, head buried in his hands.