Chapter 468:

Brad’s eyes narrowed, the air between them growing tenser. “You’ve gone too far, Zaylee. And I’ve warned you more than once. If you come near me again or spread another lie, even my grandfather won’t be able to stop me from taking action. I’ll remove you and your mother from this family myself. Do you understand?”

“No, Brad! I’m serious. I care about you!”

Tears filled her eyes. Her voice broke into sobs. She looked stunned, like she couldn’t believe he meant it.

He didn’t blink. His gaze was cold and cutting. “Get out.”

At that exact moment, the bedroom door opened with a quiet click.

Rylie stepped inside, holding a sealed pouch of pills in her hand. Calm and steady, she moved without hesitation.

What she saw was clear enough. Brad leaned against the headboard, his clothes in disarray. Zaylee knelt nearby, eyes red, her arm stretched toward him. Both turned at once. “Get out” still hung in the air, and it reached Rylie without confusion.

She paused briefly, her eyes flicking between them. Nothing in her expression shifted. It was as if she’d walked into a room full of strangers.

Without a word, she crossed to the bedside and placed the medicine down. “The butler asked me to bring this. It’s a newer formula — more stable than the last. I’ll leave it here.”

Then she turned away. Her steps were smooth. Every motion clean and firm, not the slightest trace of hesitation in her wake.

“Stop.” Brad’s voice rang out, low and firm, cutting through the silence. His eyes stayed locked on Zaylee. “Not you.”

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Zaylee trembled, overwhelmed by shame and Brad’s words.

Why did Rylie always show up when she was at her lowest?

That obvious bias stung more than anything. Zaylee covered her face, choked out a sob, and scrambled to her feet. She stumbled toward the door, barely holding herself together.

Only two people remained after that. The butler, who had trailed behind Rylie, watched Zaylee leave with tears streaking her face. He let out a soft sigh, shut the door behind her, and stayed outside.

Inside, the room felt still, with only Brad’s labored breaths filling the space. The dim light cast shadows over his form. His robe lay open, exposing the rise and fall of his chest. Beads of sweat clung to his skin, slipping into the dips of his muscles. The sight gave off a strange mix of quiet strength and weariness. Rylie let her eyes linger for a heartbeat, then calmly turned her attention to the table. “I’ve set the medicine down. I’m going.”

“Wait,” His voice cracked, rough and weak. Even frowning looked like effort. “I’m sick.”

Rylie stopped and looked back, one brow lifted. “I know. Your butler already told me. You’re not dying. Just rest a while, and you’ll bounce back. Nothing alarming.”

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