Chapter 549

Chapter 549

Ronald walked over quietly and pressed the warm glass of milk into Elsie's hands.

The warmth against her palm startled her awake. She looked up and met Ronald's conflicted gaze.

"I know you're scared," he said in a low voice. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Elsie looked at him, not pushing him away immediately like she usually would.

This brief moment of peace sparked a glimmer of hope in Ronald.

He crouched down, looking up at her, his voice hoarse yet earnest.

"Elsie, can we... start over?"

Elsie held the glass of milk, silent for a long time.

So long that Ronald thought she wouldn't answer.

"Ronald." She finally spoke, her voice calm and flat. "I can't let it go."

"Back then, I married you because of my obsession with Cedric. But later, I really did love you."

She lowered her lashes, looking at the milky white liquid swaying in the glass.

"You saved me this time, and I'm grateful. Let's just call it even for when I saved you five years ago."

"We're even now. Let's both move on with our lives."

"No!" Ronald suddenly stood up. Some milk spilled from the movement, scalding his hand, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I don't agree!"

His emotions were spiraling out of control.

"Don't you even want to know why I divorced you back then?"

"Not really." Elsie's answer was crisp and direct, like a knife stabbing precisely into his most vulnerable spot.

Ronald staggered back a step at those words, the color draining from his face.

He suddenly laughed, the sound full of self-mockery and madness.

"Elsie, how can you be so heartless?"

"If you hadn't used such underhanded methods back then, how would we have ended up like this?"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with suppressed accusation.

"I've loved you the best I could! What more do you want from me before you'll come back to me?"

Elsie looked at him strangely.

What did he mean by her underhanded methods?

"Ronald, you were the one who changed your heart and wanted to marry Missy. Now you're putting all the blame on me. Is this what you call love?"

"Why do you think I married her? Don't you know, Elsie? If you hadn't arranged for someone to defile her back then, making her pregnant, I would never have married her—for the sake of your reputation!"

These secrets that had been weighing on Ronald's heart for years just spilled out.

"Elsie, you've always been the one in my heart. We've come to this point—don't you bear any responsibility? Why did you just stop loving me like that?"

She stared at his eyes, red from anger and pain, as an absurd and cold truth gradually became clear.

So he thought she had arranged for someone to ruin Missy's innocence and harm that innocent child.

So all these years, what he hated and despised was always that "murderer" he had fabricated out of thin air.

In that moment, her heart felt like it had been plunged into a polar ice sea, instantly freezing, then shattering into powder.

All the exhaustion, grievance, and anger surged up at once.

She suddenly found it laughable.

Looking at Ronald before her, suffering and regretting for love, she slowly pulled her lips into a smile without showing any warmth.

"Yes."

She admitted it.

"I arranged for that person."

"I caused the child's death too. Ronald, that's how underhanded I was back then."

She met Ronald's suddenly constricting pupils, using the calmest tone to say the cruelest words.

"If you think I'm so despicable, why do you still want me back?"

"If I really cared about you, I wouldn't have done those things. Don't you understand yet?"

The air fell deathly silent.

The color drained from Ronald's face at a visible speed. In those bloodshot eyes, all the manic emotions seemed to be instantly sucked dry.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came from his throat.

That "truth" he had hated for years and regretted for years—she had just admitted it so casually, with her own lips.

Like a rusty, blunt knife, stirring viciously once more in his already festering heart.

Elsie didn't look at him again.

After saying those words, she turned and walked straight toward the staircase.

She showed no anger, no explanation, not even a trace of attachment, as if she were merely stating a trivial matter no more significant than the weather.

She calmly walked down the stairs, calmly passed through the messy living room, and pulled open the villa's heavy door.

Cold wind rushed in, lifting the hem of her thin clothes.

Ronald stood frozen in place, like a statue drained of its soul, only able to watch helplessly as her figure disappeared outside the door, then disappeared into the boundless night.

He could do nothing.

Even a word to make her stay would seem absurd and laughable.

The car sped through the night.

Elsie's face showed no emotion. She took out her phone and dialed a number.

"It's me, Olivia Glover."

"Find someone for me—Bruce Valois. His phone signal last appeared near Serenity Health Center. Use every resource available. I want him found, dead or alive."

Hanging up, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

Ronald had become the past, a past she had buried with her own hands.

In less than half an hour, the phone rang again.

"Ms. Glover, we found him. He was knocked unconscious and dumped in an alley behind the hospital. He's been taken to the emergency room."

The hospital reeked of disinfectant.

When Elsie arrived, Bruce had just been wheeled out of the emergency room, his forehead wrapped in gauze, his face pale.

"The patient suffered a blunt force trauma to the head with mild concussion. Fortunately, nothing serious. He'll be fine after a few days of rest," the doctor explained.

Aline also rushed over. Seeing Bruce on the hospital bed, her face turned ashen.

Bruce soon woke up.

Seeing Elsie and Aline gathered around his bed, his eyes showed some confusion.

"Elsie, how... how did I end up here?"

Elsie's heart sank.

"You don't remember?"

Bruce tried hard to recall, his brow furrowing tightly.

"I only remember going to the archives to check Maggie's accident report. I thought it was suspicious and wanted to find the surgeon to ask about it... then... then I can't remember anything else."

What happened after, who attacked him, how he ended up in the alley—his memory was completely blank.

Too clean.

So clean it was as if someone had precisely excised a segment.

"Doctor," Elsie turned to the nearby doctor, her tone brooking no argument, "give him the most comprehensive neurological examination immediately, including every toxicology screening available."

However, several hours later, all the test reports came back.

Everything was normal.

"Ms. Glover, from a medical perspective, Mr. Valois's retrograde amnesia is completely consistent with typical post-concussion symptoms. It should only be temporary."

The doctor's words brought neither Elsie nor Aline any peace of mind.

The two exchanged glances, both seeing the same unease and gravity in each other's eyes.