Chapter 167

Thud.

The bed frame rattled violently. Elizabeth's body bounced up, then slammed back down onto the blood-soaked sheets.

The line on the monitor went flat with a sharp, unbroken tone.

"Push epinephrine! Now!" Roy roared hoarsely, his mask splattered with blood.

The nurse beside him trembled uncontrollably, clutching the vial but unable to insert the needle into the IV line.

The woman's postpartum hemorrhage was too severe. Combined with the weakened condition caused by her vegetative state, her organs were shutting down one by one.

Blood spilled over the edge of the bed, pooling into a thick, dark puddle on the floor.

Matthew bent down slowly and pressed a lingering kiss on her cold lips.

"Wait for me."

Serena's Haven, top floor study.

Velvet curtains blocked out the sunlight. The room was steeped in darkness, lit only by a single desk lamp.

Matthew sat behind the rosewood desk. He removed his blood-stained jacket, pulled open a drawer, took out a stack of letter paper, and removed the cap from his fountain pen.

The pen tip scratched steadily across the paper.

The will was brief.

First item: [All movable and immovable property under my name, as well as seventy percent of the Moore Group shares, shall be inherited entirely by my eldest son, Xavier Moore.]

He had loved Elizabeth with every fiber of his being.

Matthew repeated the name silently to himself .

That newborn baby boy would now bear the weight of the Moore Group empire burden of the Moore Group empire from this moment on.

Second item: [Special Assistant John shall immediately assume the position of Executive President of the Moore Group and sole legal guardian of Xavier, managing all affairs until Xavier turns eighteen.]

Third item: [Bury Elizabeth and me together at Rosewood Estate. No funeral. Bury us immediately.]

Rosewood Estate was where he had once planted a garden full of red roses for her.

She had said it was the most beautiful place, where they would grow old together in the sunshine.

No time to grow old now. Going there now was no different.

The pen tip pressed hard on the final period, the ink spreading into a small black dot on the paper.

Matthew put down the pen, folded the letter, and slipped it into a manila envelope.

Hasty footsteps echoed outside the door.

"Knock knock."

"Come in."

The door swung open and John rushed in, eyes red.

"Mr. Moore!" John strode to the desk in a few steps, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "The hospital says Ms. Winters' organs have already..."

A manila envelope was slid in front of him.

John's words cut off mid-sentence. He stared blankly at the envelope, a rising sense of foreboding tightening in his chest.

He had been by Matthew's side for years. He knew exactly what that kind of calm meant.

"Open it." Matthew leaned back in his chair, half his face hidden in shadow.

John stiffly reached out and opened the envelope with trembling fingers.

When he pulled out the letter and saw the first line, his pupils contracted instantly.

Xavier inherits.

John as guardian.

Buried together at Rosewood Estate.

A will.

The words emptied John’s mind instantly. The paper slipped from his hands, drifting slowly to the carpet.

"Remember every single item on there." Matthew's voice remained flat and emotionless. "Protect my son at all costs. Don't let those people disturb him later."

He rose and slowly fastened his cufflinks.

"My son's name is Xavier. From now on, he's your responsibility."

"Thud!" A dull sound.

That nearly six-foot-three man—the Moore Group's special assistant—just dropped straight to his knees on the floor.

John lunged forward and clung tightly to Matthew’s legs.

"Mr. Matthew Moore! Please! Don't!" Tears and cold sweat streamed down his face. "Mr. Xavier Moore was just born! If you leave too, what will happen to him? He'll be an orphan!"

Matthew went still.

An orphan—before he could even understand the word.

His son would be an orphan from birth.

But he simply looked down at John crying on the floor, his eyes still cold.

"That's his fate."

"Mr. Moore!" John gripped Matthew's pant leg desperately. "Ms. Winters risked her life to give birth to this child—to give you something to live for! If she knew you were going to follow her, how could she rest in peace! Look at the child! He looks like you—his eyes look like Ms. Winters..."

"Shut up." Matthew cut him off.

He looked down at the confidant who had followed him for ten years.

"John, you've been with me so long, and you still don't understand me?"

"In this world, I, Matthew, don't care whether others live or die. Only her. Only her matters to me."

He bent down and slowly pried open John's white-knuckled fingers one by one.

"Without Elizabeth, Matthew is a dead man."

"A walking corpse can't raise a child."

He pried open the last finger.

Matthew slowly straightened up, stepped over John as he knelt on the floor, and and pushed open the study door.

John collapsed on the floor, helpless, clawing at the carpet as muffled sobs escaped him.

He knew it—Matthew had already decided to die for Elizabeth, and nothing he said would make any difference.

Matthew strode toward the rooftop.

He thought quietly, 'Elizabeth, don't be afraid. If the path beyond is dark, then I'll hold the light for you.'

The wind howled violently across the rooftop.

The metal door was shoved open , slamming against the concrete wall with a dull thud.

Matthew stepped onto the rough rooftop surface.

The night was deep. The city's neon lights stretched endlessly into a sea of light hundreds of feet below.

Matthew walked to the edge of the rooftop.

One more step forward, and there would be only hundreds of feet of empty air below.

Just leaning forward, and in a few seconds, his exhausted body would be completely crushed far below.

Then he could finally go down and reunite with Elizabeth.

Matthew looked down, a faint, almost peaceful smile curved his lips.

So cold.

For over twenty years, he had lived in unrelenting coldness.

Since fighting his way out of the Moore Manor—known as "hell"his hands had been stained with blood, his heart had long since turned to stone.

Others called him obsessive, ruthless, cold-blooded and heartless.

He admitted it. He was a bad man.

Until Elizabeth broke into his life.

That woman—naive and fragile at first, but later dared to escape the wedding with a knife, willing to trade her fancy clothes for a maid's uniform just to stay by his side.

She looked at him with those clear eyes, softening his cold heart with her sincerity.

But today, the blood pooling beneath her was redder than all the roses in the garden.

That red blinded Matthew's vision, making it impossible for him to go on living as if nothing had happened.

"Elizabeth..."

Matthew's voice was swept away by the wind.

Slowly, he raised his hand, tracing her outline in the air.

Without Elizabeth, even breathing itself hurt.

"Don't be afraid." He whispered softly, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile—the kind of smile only Elizabeth used to see. "I'm coming to find you."

He slowly closed his eyes, spread his arms, and leaned forward into the night sky. A sudden sensation of weightlessness swallowed him whole.