Chapter 152 Nicholas Couldn't See
Nicholas gently placed Emma on the bed, his voice carrying a hint of suppressed huskiness. "Don't be nervous. I'm not going to do anything."
"I just wanted to smell your scent."
In truth, he could no longer smell anything—his sense of smell had failed him.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead softly, whispering, "Good night."
Then he turned and walked out.
The door clicked shut.
Emma took a deep breath, still hearing her heart pounding like a drum. Her forehead still held the warm sensation of his lips.
She turned over, burying her face in the soft pillow. She was truly exhausted.
Outside the door, Nicholas stood by the window, a cigarette between his fingers, its red tip glowing intermittently in the dark night.
He took a drag, slowly exhaling smoke rings, the curling smoke blurring his sharp features.
He struggled to restrain the cravings coursing through his body, his eyes still holding traces of unfaded desire. After a long silence, he stubbed out the cigarette, turned, and walked into the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of rushing water echoed from within.
The night in Luminous City seemed restless.
Past midnight, Hawk finally returned to the villa.
Evelyn lay on her side, not truly asleep—in fact, she hadn't slept at all.
The mattress dipped slightly behind her, then a strong hand reached over with irresistible force, gently pulling her into a firm chest.
Hawk's signature scent—cold pine mixed with faint tobacco—instantly enveloped her.
Evelyn's body went rigid. Almost by reflex, she sprang up.
She reached over and switched on the bedside lamp.
Soft orange light cascaded down, illuminating his slightly weary yet still profound handsome face.
Evelyn looked at Hawk beside the bed. He'd just removed his jacket and wore only a black shirt, the collar unbuttoned to reveal a glimpse of his solid chest.
Her gaze was icy, her voice devoid of warmth. "Either you sleep somewhere else, or I will. Choose."
Hawk's deep eyes fixed on her, his voice somewhat low. "The wind's picked up. I was worried you'd be cold."
Evelyn's lips curved in heavy mockery. "Mr. Zane, you jest. I'm not afraid of devils themselves—why would I fear the cold?"
Hawk's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly as he suddenly began explaining. "Evelyn, what you saw today—it's not what you think."
He paused, then continued, "In a few days, when everything settles, I'll give you a satisfactory answer."
Evelyn's delicate face remained cold as ice. "No need. I don't want to hear anything. Tomorrow, arrange a private jet to take me back to Emerald City."
Just seeing him made her remember that afternoon's scene, turning her stomach.
Hawk reached out to take her hand.
Evelyn jerked away, avoiding his touch, her eyes full of rejection and disgust.
Hawk's outstretched hand froze mid-air, his gaze darkening.
He softened his tone, carrying barely audible coaxing. "Evelyn, can you wait for me just a few days? It's still chaotic outside. Wait for me, and when everything's finished, I'll personally take you home."
His voice lifted slightly at the end, carrying a hint of cajoling a child.
"Not even one day." Her tone was resolute. She lay back down, turning her back to him, and snapped off the light.
Darkness reclaimed the room, cutting off all possibility of communication.
Hawk's heart felt stuffed and uncomfortable, like it was packed with wet cotton.
He stood in the darkness for a while before finally turning and walking out, gently closing the door behind him.
That door completely severed their hearts.
The next morning, Emma rose early and boarded the helicopter Charlie had arranged, destination: the remote White Peak Mountains.
That was where James lived in seclusion.
Yes, she was going to retrieve the Warm Heaven—only this one ingredient was missing.
The helicopter's rotor blades cut through the morning stillness with their thunderous noise.
As they approached, she peered through the porthole, her pupils suddenly contracting.
From the direction of the main residence, a thick black column of smoke rose toward the sky like grasping claws.
Her heart lurched as an ominous premonition seized her.
Something terrible had happened!
The aircraft had barely landed when Emma leaped out before the cabin door fully opened.
She stumbled toward the back courtyard.
The Warm Heaven herb garden that James had once tenderly cultivated was now nothing but charred earth.
The acrid smell of burning filled the air, stinging her eyes.
Emma rushed to the edge of the scorched land, practically falling to her knees as she frantically clawed through the ash with her bare hands, searching for any trace of green.
Nothing.
Everything was gone.
Not a single plant remained!
Her fingernails filled with black ash and soil, blood beading on her scraped knuckles, but she felt nothing.
Chris hurried over, his expression grave as he knelt beside her.
"Emma, Grandpa isn't here."
His voice was low, weighted with suppressed worry.
Emma's face was frighteningly pale, trembling slightly from the loss of the Warm Heaven.
This wasn't just James's life's work—it was Nicholas's lifesaving medicine.
Suddenly, a commotion arose.
Two bodyguards approached, escorting a woman.
The woman wore simple clothing, her hair somewhat disheveled, but the cold pride in her features remained undiminished.
It was Sheryl.
Emma sprang to her feet, rushing to Sheryl with fire practically shooting from her eyes.
"Did you set this fire?" Her voice was hoarse with urgent anger.
Sheryl lifted her head, meeting her gaze with cold indifference, even curving her lips in a mocking arc.
"Emma."
She paused, then continued slowly, "Nicholas won't survive. You must be devastated."
The tone was like a knife twisting in Emma's heart.
Emma's chest heaved violently as she gestured for the bodyguards to step back.
Chris and the guards exchanged glances, silently withdrawing to a distance while keeping their eyes vigilantly locked on the scene.
On the vast scorched earth, only the two women remained.
Emma stared hard at Sheryl, struggling to steady her breathing as she asked, "Sheryl, you must have some Warm Heaven hidden on you, don't you?"
She placed all her hope on this woman who had once been innocent.
At this, Sheryl suddenly burst into cold laughter, the sound sharp and piercing.
"How could I possibly?"
"I burned it all—every last bit! I would never betray Matthew."
Emma felt as if all strength had been drained from her body, swaying as she involuntarily stepped back.
"Sheryl, why? Why are you helping him do these things? You shouldn't live for him."
Sheryl reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, suddenly roaring, "Emma! Where's your conscience? He's loved you for so many years! Treasured you like a precious gem! Why won't you go with him?"
"If not for you, how could he have become so insane? He's completely lost it!"
Emma closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, they held inconsolable sorrow.
"True love isn't possession. He's too obsessed. I wish he'd never met me—then he'd still be that spirited Matthew, not what he's become now."
The anger on Sheryl's face gradually faded, replaced by deep sadness.
She murmured, "But he could never give you up. If he could have you, he'd be so happy."
She spoke foolishly, endless sorrow streaming from her eyes.
Emma felt something inside her stir at seeing Sheryl like this.
"Sheryl, leave him. Go find your own life. He's like a beautiful Seven-colored Flower—brilliant and dazzling, but saturated with deadly poison. Such love is too dangerous. Let go!"
Sheryl's eyes slowly reddened, moisture gathering at the corners.
She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat never emerged.
She sniffled, her voice thick with congestion, asking an entirely unrelated question, "If Nicholas died, would you die too?"
"I'll do everything in my power to keep him alive. Even if it's just one more day."
Her tone held no hesitation—it was absolute and resolute.
Sheryl fell silent.
She stared at Emma for several seconds, then turned to leave.
After walking a few steps, she stopped and left behind one sentence.
"James is in Riverside, safe and sound."
With that, she hurried away, her figure quickly disappearing around the mountain path's bend.
Emma watched the direction of Sheryl's departure, her heart a tangle of emotions.
She slowly turned and walked toward James's study nearby.
Pushing open that familiar wooden door, the scent of dust mixed with faint ink fragrance hit her.
Scenes from the past flooded her mind like a tide.
James writing equations for her, tapping her palm with a ruler when she was lazy...
Her eyes reddened uncontrollably, her vision gradually blurring.
Suddenly, inspiration struck. A sentence James had once said with playful teasing echoed clearly in her ears.
"Emma, you've been sneaking my Warm Heaven again! I've told you countless times—don't waste it like candy! Though come to think of it, if even Seven-colored Flower can't poison you, then you're basically a walking antidote yourself!"
Seven-colored Flower...
Walking antidote...
Emma's heart thundered as if something had struck it hard!
All her dejection and despair were instantly replaced by a faint hope.
She quickly turned and rushed out.
Returning to the villa, she burst into the laboratory at top speed.
The Warm Heaven was meant to neutralize the Seven-colored Flower's toxicity, preventing poisoning in those who consumed it. The Seven-colored Flower had two components that could counteract any poison, rapidly clearing the neural toxins from Nicholas's system. There was no time now to separate them.
If she could just neutralize the Seven-colored Flower's poison, all problems would be solved.
Emma grabbed a needle and quickly drew two vials of blood, placing them in the incubator.
"Emma." Nicholas's voice came from behind her.
She jumped, quickly pulling down her sleeve without even time to tend to the wound.
"What's wrong? You look terrible."
She shook her head. "I'm just a little tired. Why did you come over?"
"I came to get you for lunch." As he spoke, he reached for her hand.
She dodged away, her voice slightly panicked. "Let me clean up. Wait outside for two minutes, okay?"
Nicholas nodded and walked out.
Emma quickly pressed against her wound, but the spurting blood had already stained her clothing red. She hastily applied a bandage, pressed it for a moment, put on her coat, and headed outside.
Nicholas took her hand as they walked out of the building. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness struck, and he stopped.
When he opened his eyes again, the world before him had turned pitch black.
He couldn't see.
"Emma." He called out nervously, his grip on her hand suddenly tightening painfully.