บททั้งหมดของ A Bond Not Meant To Be : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Lucille laid on the bed, her gaze on the ceiling. She could still feel a slight pressure on her head.She blinked a few times, recalling all that had happened just few hours she left the cell.Ophelia was sitting beside her, gently dabbing a cold cloth on the side of her head where the bruise had formed. The cool water made her skin tingle, and Lucille sighed in relief."Thank you," she mutteredA smile crept onto Ophelia's face. “How do you feel now?” Her voice was soft and gentle, filled with concern.Lucille moved her hand to touch the bruised area on her head. It was swollen, but not as much as before.Her fingers pressed softly against the spot, and she winced slightly. It felt tender, but there was no sharp pain.“I feel better,” Lucille replied slowly, her voice hoarse from the fall. “It’s not as bad as before.”Ophelia smiled at her. “Good. You should be feeling less dizzy now. The herbs should help with the pain too.”Lucille closed her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the

Lucille blinked in confusion. “A doctor?”“Yes,” he said. “I was sent to check on your injuries.”Her lips parted. “Sent? By who?”The doctor didn’t answer. “May I come in?”She hesitated, then stepped back. He walked in, his steps steady.“Sit,” he said, already opening his briefcase. “I’ll need to see the bruise.”Lucille sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off the bandage slowly, her brows furrowed.The doctor checked her head, gently pressing around the swollen spot. She winced quietly.“How did this happen?” he asked as he touched the area again.“I slipped and fell in the bathroom,” she replied honestly, even though she was confused about why a doctor was treating her. It felt strange and unusual.“Looks like you used some herbs,” he said softly. And she gave a small nod in reply.“Hmm. It’s healing, but slowly. The herbs helped reduce the swelling,” he said.Lucille watched him carefully as he opened the box. Did Ophelia call him? But the doctor looked too clean and refined for

Seeing Edward leave, Mabel's heart clenched and her eyes began to saturated.Mrs. Jones finally spoke. “Mabel, dear, I think it’s time you understand, our son makes his own choices. If he says there was nothing between you, then we must accept it.”Mabel gave a small laugh, bitter and short. “Easy for you to say. You still have your pride.” she didn't care if her words sounded disrespectful.Her mother touched her arm. “That’s enough, Mabel.”Cyril Fletcher stood up slowly. “We came here for what is right. But clearly, this family has no intention of treating us fairly. We won’t forget this insult.”Williams didn’t flinch. “Then don’t.”Mabel’s tears finally spilled. She didn’t wipe them. Her mother pulled her to her body. "Everything will be fine," she assured. Then helped her up."I'll make contacts for the scar removal ointment. You'll receive it as soon as possible." Williams said, when the Fletchers were about leaving the sitting room.Outside the house, Edward's footsteps were f

Georgina stood stiffly in front of Edward’s desk, brows slightly raised in confusion."No chores at all, sir?" she asked, careful not to show too much surprise.Edward didn’t lift his eyes from the papers he was pretending to read. "Yes. None. Assign her duties to the others. She’s not to lift a finger."Georgina hesitated. "What should I tell her if she asks why?"Edward looked up, his tone firm. "You’ll tell her nothing. Not a word about where this is coming from. Just make sure she has good food, clean clothes, and enough rest.""Understood, Sir,"Georgina left the room quietly, still trying to piece together what had caused the sudden shift. Lucille was the girl Edward couldn’t stand. Or so everyone thought.Two days later,Lucille stared at the empty bucket by her door for the fifth time, in a row. No laundry. No instructions. No one yelling her name. Meals appeared in her room, hot, well-prepared, and nothing like the leftovers she used to get.She ate. She rested. But most of a

The scent of cigars and aged whiskey lingered in the high-ceilinged room of the Jones meeting room, where leather chairs surrounded a polished round table.Edward’s father, Williams Jones, a man of stature and quiet authority, leaned forward as the last of the senior wolves, filed into the room. They were not part of the ruling council but wielded influence nonetheless, retired councilmen, advisors, and high-ranking officials from allied provinces."Gentlemen," Williams began, his voice deep and calm. "I appreciate you all coming on short notice. I’ll go straight to the point. It’s time we considered a new face on the Tribunal Council. I nominate my son, Edward."A murmur swept the table. Old Alpha Donald, always the first to speak his mind, raised a brow. "With all due respect, Williams, your nephew Mitch already holds a seat. It’s unlikely they’ll accept another from the same bloodline."Another, thinner man with silver hair, interjected, "True, but Mitch has been, unpredictable la