Forbidden Touch

The funeral hall felt unnaturally cold, as if all warmth had been drained from the room.

A somber hymn played on repeat, while the candles burned low in their stands, wax dripping in silence.

Sinking in sadness, Lizzie Lee stood before her father’s casket, her heart long since numb. Her fingers were ice-cold, curled tightly into her palms, as if letting go for even a second would make her fall apart.

Nearby, voices murmured in low whispers:

“Where’s Mr. Hall? Why isn’t he here yet?”

“You didn’t hear? He’s at the airport picking someone up. It’s already made the headlines.”

“Picking someone up? Who could be so important? Today’s his father-in-law’s funeral!”

“I heard it’s his old flame from years back. You know how first loves are—hard to let go.”

“Well, he’s a man. It’s not like this kind of thing is unusual.”

Every word felt like a step grinding against her eardrums.

“Buzz—”

Her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up.

The breaking news headline stabbed straight into her eyes.

[Heir to Hall Enterprise, Nathan Hall, spotted at the airport late at night, holding lilies as he welcomes a mysterious woman!]

She stared at the line, her fingers tightening as she tapped it open.

In the high-definition photo, the man wore a sharply tailored black coat, a large bouquet of lilies in one hand, the other resting on the woman’s shoulder beside him.

The camera angle was deliberate—at a glance, it looked like he was kissing her.

The woman’s profile was cool and delicate, her makeup understated. But the faint trace of satisfaction at the corner of her eyes was impossible to ignore.

Lizzie closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, her gaze was unnaturally clear.

She knew this woman.

Sharon Johnson.

Sharon had been pampered since childhood, spoiled and willful. Nathan indulged her willingly, giving in to her in everything, spoiling her beyond restraint.

Back then, when a clerk had accidentally spilled a bit of drink on her, she smashed a wine glass on the spot and forced the person to kneel on the shards to apologize.

No one dared make a sound, and only Nathan had stepped in, helplessly cleaning up after her.

When Lizzie first heard those stories, she hadn’t taken them to heart.

The day she registered her marriage with Nathan, he personally held her hand and took her to city hall.

But now, looking at this photo, she found it laughable.

A sudden commotion rose at the entrance of the funeral hall.

A black Maybach pulled to a steady stop outside the courtyard, the door pushed open from within. Footsteps climbed the steps, and soon, two figures entered.

Sharon walked in first, dressed in a plain white dress with a light shawl draped over her shoulders, her complexion pale.

Her eyes were rimmed red, as if she could collapse at any moment.

Nathan followed closely behind, his black suit immaculate, tie perfectly in place. His tall frame carried an innate chill.

He walked toward the front, his gaze passing over the crowd before settling briefly on the photograph beside Lizzie’s father’s casket, his lips tightening.

“Sir, may you rest in peace.” He stepped forward and bowed slightly, his tone steady. “I’m late.”

He acted flawlessly.

But to Lizzie, that “sir” sounded nothing but ironic.

The man lying before them was his wife’s father, and yet he called him “sir.”

She didn’t correct him, only curled her lips into a faint, mocking smile.

Sharon stood half a step behind him, her voice soft and fragile.

“Lizzie, please don’t blame Nat. It’s my fault… My flight was delayed, and I only landed past midnight.

“Nat was worried it wouldn’t be safe for me alone, so he came to pick me up. What happened to your father was so sudden. By the time we rushed back, this was the soonest we could make it…”

The murmurs in the hall grew louder.

“So that’s Miss Johnson? The one from the news.”

“They’re standing awfully close… don’t tell me there’s nothing going on.”

Only then did Lizzie lift her head, raising her eyes to look at them.

“And you are?” Her voice was flat, cold.

Sharon froze for a moment. “Lizzie, I’m Sha—”

“I’m asking him.” Lizzie cut her off, her gaze settling on Nathan.

Nathan frowned. “Liz, this is Sharon Johnson. Shara, this is Lizzie Lee.”

“Liz?” Lizzie let out a soft laugh. “Shara?”

She held her gaze on Nathan, bitterness rising in her chest. “You call her that so affectionately.”

She turned to Sharon. “And another thing, I don’t recall sending you an invitation to my father’s funeral.”

Sharon’s face went pale, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Lizzie, I… I was just worried Nat was exhausted. I wanted to come with him and pay my respects to your father. If you’re upset, I’ll leave right now…”

She took a step back as she spoke, her footing unsteady, as if she might collapse the next second.

Nathan instinctively reached out to steady her. “Sharon, be careful.”

“There’s something else I want to ask.” Lizzie spoke suddenly.

She looked at Nathan, her gaze so calm it bordered on indifference. “The clinical trial slot for Sencor Pharma’s cancer drug—who did it go to in the end?”

Nathan froze.

Sharon froze too, her expression stiffening instantly.

From a corner of the hall, someone whispered, “Sencor Pharma? That new drug recently? I heard the slots are extremely limited. Getting one takes serious connections.”

“I heard from my cousin that someone from the Johnson family made the list. Supposedly the Hall family helped arrange it.”

“No wonder…”

All eyes slowly turned toward them.

Lizzie’s knuckles turned white. “You promised me back then. You said you’d find a way. You said you’d help me secure a slot. I believed you.

“When the hospital told me all the slots were gone, I comforted myself, thinking you had already done everything you could.”

She spoke each word clearly. “Nathan, I’ll ask you one last time.

“Did you give my father’s slot to someone from the Johnson family?”

Nathan’s throat bobbed, his lips pressed tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Sharon spoke up anxiously, “Lizzie, don’t push Nat like this. It was me. I asked him. My cousin’s husband’s life depended on it. Please don’t blame him…”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Lizzie cut her off again.

Their eyes met.

After a long silence, Nathan finally said, “At the time, your father was already in the late stage. Even with the new drug, the survival rate was almost zero. I—”

“So you made the decision for him?” Lizzie finished the sentence for him.

She let out a small laugh, devoid of any warmth. “So, in your eyes, my father’s life could be calculated like that.”

Sharon’s eyes reddened. “Lizzie, don’t speak so harshly. Back then, Nat had no choice. He was in pain too, he just…”

Lizzie looked at her calmly. "From the moment you walked in, you’ve been chattering and calling my husband ‘Nat.' Not once did you mention my father.

“Did you come here to pay your respects or to declare your place?”

Sharon’s face flushed red.

Nathan frowned. “Liz, you’re not in the right state to talk about this. We’ll discuss it at home.”

Lizzie took a breath, forcing down the surge of grievance, anger, and physical discomfort all at once.

She turned toward her father’s casket, her voice steady. “Since you’re here, pay your respects.

“After that, Mr. Hall, Miss Johnson, you can leave.”