All Chapters of The Cure Is you: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

°SERENA° "Who are you?" I whispered to the man before me. He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze flickered around, scanning the surroundings. Maybe he hadn’t heard me. Now that I looked at him properly, he didn’t seem like a goon. But then again, what if goons had gotten more professional—wearing suits, looking sharp? "You’re Serena, right?" His voice suddenly cut through the silence, startling me. I didn’t respond. Should I? He took my silence as confirmation. "Come with me." My body caught up with my brain in an instant. I yanked my hand away. "Who are you?" I demanded again, this time louder. He sighed. He sighed? What the hell. He was the one trying to kidnap me. "I’m Fred," he said. "Adrian’s friend." Adrian’s friend? That meant he sent him. But wait—where was Tim? "No, you’re lying. Adrian wouldn’t send you. It was someone else," I argued. "You mean Timothy?" Fred’s expression remained unreadable. "Yeah, he was on his way, but I was closer." He knows Ti

°ADRIAN° Once again standing before this house, I felt nothing but a cold dismay wash over me. The mansion loomed, carved in the same grandeur that once terrified me as a boy. Its ivy-draped walls stood like old gods watching over the sins they once bore witness to, silent and unmoved. Its towering gates creaked open with a reluctant groan, and the familiar crunch of gravel beneath my shoes sent a chill up my spine. The air was stiff with aged roses, the kind my mother used to place on the dining table, back when silence hadn’t yet swallowed every space whole. “Shall we go inside, sir?” Timothy’s voice, calm and quiet, broke the spell. He stood respectfully beside me, dressed impeccably, though I knew his eyes were on me more than the door. I nodded once. Or forced myself to. Still, my feet stayed frozen to the ground. The wind shifted. Not strong—but enough to rustle the leaves, to carry the whispers of the past straight into my bones. I was no longer the trembling boy be

°SERENA° I waited. Every tick of the clock was a hammer against my chest. Today was his day—Adrian’s moment to finally expose the rotting truth buried in his family’s legacy. To drag it all out into the light and put an end to the years of silence and pain. He'd seemed calm this morning, eerily composed. But I knew better. I’d learned the language of his silence—the slight clench of his jaw, the way his eyes refused to settle, the rigid calm he wore like armor. Adrian’s relationship with pain was like his shadow—always there, never fully seen. And something about that stillness unsettled me. He wasn’t okay. Time trickled by. I kept glancing at the door, expecting to hear footsteps, a knock, something. But the hours crawled forward and still, no sign of him. He should have let me come with him. I told him I should have gone. What if the truth got twisted again? What if those people—his blood, his enemies—found a new way to spin the lies? What if his fury, raw and just, was

°ADRIAN° The door closed with a soft thud. Almost fragile. But it echoed like a gunshot in my skull. She left. And once again, what should’ve felt like a home felt like a mausoleum. Just blocks of bricks and the ghosts of her laughter echoing through the silence. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I hadn’t moved from where I stood—hadn’t dared. My chest felt hollow, like something had been ripped out of me. A vacuum. A space where love used to live. I let her go. No—worse. I asked her to leave. I told her it was for the best. That I was a mess. But the truth is… I didn’t know what else to do. And now the air reeked of her absence. Her scent still clung to the couch where she curled up with her books. Her favorite sweater still hung off the chair, half-folded. And the food she cooked... it sat on the table. Untouched. Growing cold. She hadn’t eaten. And I pushed her out anyway. Where would she go? To her father? The man who poisoned her. The sa

°ADRIAN° "Yes. And it begins with—" My phone rang. A shrill, stabbing sound that cut through the room like a blade. I stopped mid-sentence, breath caught mid-chest. Fuck. Annoyed, I pulled it from my pocket—half-ready to snap at whoever dared to— Then the world dropped out from under me. Victor’s face filled the screen. Smiling. No—grinning, smug and twisted, like he’d won a game I didn’t even know we were still playing. His eyes sparkled with something feral, something unholy. Then the camera tilted. My heart turned to stone. Serena. Tied to a chair. Hair clinging to her face, her lips cracked, trembling. A bruise darkened one cheek—deep, fresh. Like someone had slammed their palm across her face. "Adrian..." she whispered. And I couldn’t breathe. Air wouldn’t come. My lungs were locked in ice. He hit her? HE FUCKING HIT HER? My hands clenched around the phone, trembling with barely controlled violence. I could feel the heat rise up my neck, my chest—