Chapter 153

Chapter 153

Matthew's pupils contracted sharply, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to make a sound.

"Elizabeth!" His hoarse, broken roar echoed across the empty plaza.

Passersby turned to look, unaware that this proud, aloof man's heart had already shattered inside.

"Mr. Moore!" John hurried to catch up, seeing Matthew's deathly pale face wearing an expression he'd never seen before—wild joy mixed with utter despair.

"I saw her!" Matthew stared fixedly at where Elizabeth had just been standing, trembling all over. "I really saw her!"

John looked in the direction he pointed, seeing only a few tourists taking photos. "Mr. Moore, are you having another episode..."

"It wasn't a hallucination!" Matthew growled, drawing frequent glances from passersby. "She looked at me, she was crying..."

"But Ms. Winters is still lying in her hospital bed. The monitors show she's been stable the whole time."

Matthew wasn't listening at all, searching the area frantically, too obsessed to stop.

He'd rather believe it was her soul, unable to let him go, that she'd secretly come to see him...

He knew the idea of souls was absurd, but he wanted to believe it, even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance.

"Elizabeth—"

"Mr. Moore, please calm down!"

"Elizabeth, come out, I saw you! I really saw you!"

"Mr. Moore, stop shouting. Ms. Winters is in the sterile chamber. Look at the monitor..." John frantically pulled out his phone, bringing up the live feed from the manor.

Elizabeth covered her face, tears streaming down even harder.

He'd built a tower for her. He still loved her just as much, not one bit less.

The pain felt like ten thousand arrows piercing her heart.

Matthew knocked John's phone away with one hand, raising his other hand to cover his eyes tightly.

He knew he looked like a pathetic madman, but the burning ache in his chest nearly suffocated him.

That wasn't a hallucination... that was the person he thought about day and night. Even if it was just a soul, he'd recognize her.

"Mr. Moore, let's go back. You shouldn't be away from Ms. Winters for even a moment. You miss her so much that you're seeing her soul."

But Matthew wouldn't budge, continuing his frantic search, wanting to see those bright eyes again.

Even just one more second would give him tremendous courage to keep going.

But that earlier glimpse seemed like a cruel joke from God. He searched every corner inside and outside Serena's Haven, but never saw even a trace of her again.

"Elizabeth..." Back at Serena's Haven, Matthew drank bottle after bottle of alcohol.

Drunk, he murmured her name, full of devotion, pain, and longing so thick it couldn't dissolve.

Elizabeth's soul ached sharply. Fighting back her breakdown, she shouted at him: "Matthew! Stop drinking! If you keep this up, I'm really going to be angry!"

Matthew didn't hear her words, yet they seemed to have magic power.

The forceful man from a second ago now showed a trace of confused helplessness in his eyes.

Like a child who'd done something wrong, he hung his head and coaxed softly: "I'll be good... I'll do whatever you say... don't be angry, okay..."

"Elizabeth, you know I'm most afraid of you being angry."

Elizabeth couldn't bear to look at the bottomless devotion in his eyes anymore.

"Being angry makes you look tired, silly girl..." he mumbled incoherently, his heavy body slowly falling down, lying on the bed, breathing heavily.

Elizabeth thought he'd fall asleep, but then heard the man speak again, his voice broken and choked:

"Elizabeth, do you know how long you've been asleep... do you know what I've been through during this time... you're so cruel..."

"I learned to make all the rich soups—truffle soup, pumpkin soup, cream of mushroom soup... do you know how good I am at cooking now? When will you wake up and praise me..."

Elizabeth's soul ached, tears silently rolling down.

"I rarely get drunk. Tonight's an exception... you hate it most when I drink. With John watching over me for you, how would I dare drink recklessly..."

"Elizabeth, is it you... or am I dreaming again... I'm used to talking to thin air now... imagining you're still taking a bath, still drawing in the study, still picking roses in the garden..."

Elizabeth bit her lip hard, tears silently soaking her ethereal clothes, her soul hurting so much it felt like it would scatter.

"The worst part is morning... every time I open my eyes, I have to accept all over again that you're in a coma... like a wound being torn open fresh every single day..."

Her soul began trembling uncontrollably.

"I've tried everything... whiskey, sleeping pills, piling up work from the Moore Group until dawn... but my dreams are full of you, and when I wake up I can't hold onto anything..."

A scalding tear slid from the corner of Matthew's eye, landing on the back of his hand.

He didn't notice, still mumbling: "The doctor says my heart's getting worse and worse, that my emotions can't handle even the slightest shock... maybe one day I'll just suddenly collapse. I keep forgetting to take my medicine. Wake up and look after me... okay..."

Matthew's voice grew lower and lower, finally settling into steady, long breaths.

Elizabeth gazed at him through tear-blurred eyes.

Only now could she get close to him like this, look at him without restraint.

He'd gotten so much thinner. His face was an unhealthy pale, his brow furrowed tightly even in sleep, as if even his dreams gave him no peace.

She reached out her fingertip, gently brushing across his cheek.

Just then—Matthew suddenly opened his eyes, staring straight in the direction of her tear-stained face.

Elizabeth's soul instantly froze, her mind going blank.

Matthew sat alone in the darkness, like an abandoned child.

Elizabeth's heart ached to the point of suffocation.

"Elizabeth?" He suddenly came to his senses, helpless and panicked. "Don't leave me... please."

Matthew stood up groggily, stumbling his way to Elizabeth's room that had been converted into a hospital room, collapsing beside her bed.

In this moment, Elizabeth couldn't hold on anymore.

In the past when Matthew got drunk, he'd always just fall asleep immediately, steady as anything.

This was the first time she'd seen him act drunk—childish, vulnerable, anxious, like a kid who hadn't grown up.

A bit heartbreaking, and a bit heart-wrenching.

He'd gotten noticeably thinner. The firm, smooth abs he used to have—now you could clearly feel his ribs.

Had he eaten a single proper meal?

Hadn't he promised her he'd take good care of himself?

She thought, 'Matthew, when will you stop breaking my heart like this.'

The night grew deeper and deeper. Matthew finally quieted down completely, falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning, the hospital room was very quiet. The monitor suddenly made a soft sound.

The line on the screen only fluctuated by one notch, but Matthew, lying by the bedside, immediately opened his bloodshot eyes, staring fixedly at that line.

"Elizabeth..." Matthew placed his hand on her belly. A slight movement came from beneath his palm.

On his lifeless face, a trace of vitality finally appeared.

John came in carrying breakfast. Seeing Matthew's condition, he hurried over to help him up.

Matthew must have spent another night sleeping beside Elizabeth's hospital bed.

Matthew's gaze didn't move from Elizabeth's oxygen-masked face for even a second.

Just then, a phone rang abruptly.

John pulled out his phone and saw the caller ID, his face turning slightly pale. "Mr. Moore... it's the encrypted line from the Moore Manor."

Hearing the words "the Moore Manor," the expression that had just softened on Matthew's face instantly vanished, his eyes becoming incredibly sinister.

The atmosphere in the entire hospital room grew oppressive.

That place wasn't home to him, it was where his mother had been killed, full of schemes and calculations.

"Hang up," Matthew said coldly.

John bit his lip and hung up the phone.

But the other end kept calling persistently, one call after another.

John had no choice. Taking the risk that Matthew might vent his anger out on him, he answered the call.

From the other end came the butler's voice, choked with tears: "John! Please let Mr. Matthew Moore answer the phone! Mr. Steven Moore... he's not going to make it!"