Chapter 67
reston finally set the document aside, his fingers lingering briefly on its crisp edges before folding his hands in his lap. His brow arched slightly, an elegant, measured expression settling over his face as he cast a glance toward Georgia.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
Georgia’s voice came tentative, cautious as she ventured a question that weighed heavily on her mind. “Is Laura alright?”
Preston’s composure fractured almost instantly. A flicker of anger sparked behind his eyes, and he let out a bitter laugh. “Georgia, are you really so hypocritical? Look at yourself–how can you care about someone else when you’re in such a state?” His voice sharpened, cutting through the sterile hospital air with cold disdain.
Georgia bit her lip, steadying herself as her gaze locked on his. “Mr. Hill, you’re wrong,” she said with quiet conviction, “I want to plead for her. Please, spare her life. Don’t torture her. As for everything else, Mr. Hill, you may do as you wish.”
Preston scoffed, the mockery clear in his tone. “I thought you were hypocritical enough to be friends with someone who hurt you so deeply.”
She did not argue. Instead, she looked at him with sober seriousness. “She’s your employee, Mr. Hill. You can punish her as you see fit, but I ask you not to kill her. If Laura crosses you again, punish her however you want. I promise I won’t speak for her again.”
Georgia’s voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with an unspoken weight. “I do not want to owe anyone my life.”
It was a confession hanging like a boulder on her chest–one she carried as though shackled to it.
Preston’s eyes darkened with a complicated mix of emotion as he studied the woman in the bed before him.
“Did you finally admit it, Georgia?” His voice was laced with scom. “That you owe someone your life? You resisted it three years ago. Now, after all this time, after leaving prison, you can’t bear the struggle inside anymore?”
His words were cruel, dripping with ridicule a Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading!
Georgia lowered her eyes, her long lashes casting a shadow that veiled the emptiness beneath–a barrier against the world’s cruelty.
Had Preston spoken to her like this three years ago, she would have fought back with words, with explanations, with desperate pleas.
But now? No.
She no longer possessed a wolf to shield her. She had lost her pride, her confidence, everything.
She only had the same name as the Silver Stream Pack’s Alpha’s beautiful Luna–and nothing else.
“Say something.” Preston demanded, his voice hard as ice. “I told you to speak. Don’t you have anything to explain?”
His eyes held a flicker of expectation, subtle and unintentional. He wanted her words–to soften him, to give him an
excuse.
But Georgia did not speak.
Three years ago, she had stood bound and soaked by the relentless rain in the Dark Spike Pack’s square, pleading for five minutes to explain herself,
He never gave her that chance. He threw her out of the car and ordered her imprisoned in the werewolf prison.
What was there left to explain after three years?
“Ive been in prison,” Georgia said slowly, her voice raw and ragged, each word scraping the air like broken glass. “I endured my punishment.”
Her gaze lifted, locking on Preston’s with a cold, flat edge. “What use is it to explain now?”
Her words were a challenge wrapped in apathy.
< Chapter 67
She asked quietly. “Mr. Hill, do you want to send me back to prison? For how long? Three years? Five? Ten?”
There was nothing in her eyes but indifference–as if the weight of her fate barely registered anymore.
Preston’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing into slits of seething anger as he stared at her.
“Your explanations won’t work,” he said with brutal finality, “because you’ve admitted you owe someone your life.”
He paused, voice dropping lower, sharper, “How do you intend to repay that debt?”
“Is paying my life back enough?” Georgia said flatly, her tone almost detached.
She did not bother to mention Giselle again; she had tried, but Preston never believed her.
Preston studied the cold mask on her face and fell silent, unable to form a reply.
“Mr. Hill, what time is it?”
“Five–thirty.”
Georgia nodded, then pushed back the quilt, preparing to rise.
Preston’s hand shot out, holding her firmly down. “You have sick leave.”
“I don’t need it.”
His gaze sharpened. “You don’t need it? Georgia, do you not know what’s missing from you? Don’t you need to rest?”
The words struck her like a thunderclap. Her eyes widened, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles whitened, yet at tremor betrayed her strength.
He had said it.
He dared to say aloud what she kept buried, what she refused to admit even to herself.
And he was the one who shattered her silence.
“Mr. Hill, of course I know what’s missing,” she said, voice uneven and fierce, her eyes rimmed red. “I don’t need you reminding me. Thanks to you, I’ve accepted it over and over again!”
A swell of pain, anger, and humiliation surged through her.
This is the pain you caused me, Preston–and you rub it in.
Preston’s heart faltered, caught off guard by the rawness of her pain. “Georgia, whether you believe me or not, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
A misunderstanding?
an to say this has n
Georgia’s gaze hardened as she met his eyes. “You mean to say this has nothing to do with you? That you had no knowledge of it?”
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Her heart ached with bitter irony. “Mr. Hill, do you believe that yourself? Who would dare do such a thing to me without your permission?”
Preston was stunned into silence. She was right. No one dared harm her without his consent.
Was it, as Simon said, that Preston’s attitude toward Georgia–his cruelty or mercy–had dictated her fate all those years?
Was that why she had suffered such brutality?
Preston looked up at her, voice low and strained. “If I say ”
“You don’t have to say anything. I believe everything you say anyway,” Georgia interrupted, a bitter smile curling her lips.
Did it matter whether she believed him or not?
Preston saw the deep distrust shadowing her face. His fists clenched so tightly he thought his nails might bite into his palms. He swallowed down the words he longed to say but knew were useless now.
