Chapter 34

Emily Johnson sat by the window, flipping through the pages of her book, occasionally glancing at the two small figures busily working in the yard. The fading sunlight cast a warm glow around them.

Meanwhile, beneath the locust tree at the village entrance, Sophia Green was whispering with Peter Wilson.

"Where's Emily?" Peter kicked a pebble impatiently.

Sophia's eyes darkened with malice. "She didn't come."

"What?" Peter's face twisted in anger. "I waited all this time, and she didn't show?"

Sophia smirked. "If she won't come to you, why not go to her? Michael Stone isn't home—just a defenseless woman and two little brats. What are you afraid of?"

She lowered her voice deliberately. "Or... are you content to always be overshadowed by Michael?"

The words cut deep. Peter clenched his fists, veins bulging.

"Don't you dare provoke me!" He glared at her. "I know exactly what you're after. If we weren't both itching to see Michael humiliated, I wouldn't be playing your game!"

Sophia flinched under his fierce gaze but forced a cold smile. "Think what you want. But I heard... Michael should be back in a couple of days."

She gave him a meaningful look before turning away, her clothes fluttering in the evening breeze like the wings of a black butterfly.

Peter watched her retreat, his eyes burning with danger. The October wind carried a chill, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire of rage in his chest.

At the county hospital, in a quiet ward—

"Michael! You're awake!" Charles Clark nearly knocked over the IV stand in his excitement.

Michael Stone tried to push him away but winced as pain shot through his wound.

"Don't move!" Charles fumbled to steady him, voice thick with guilt. "It's my fault... If you hadn't saved me—"

"Enough." Samuel Bright cut him off with a frown, turning to the bed. "How do you feel?"

Michael's vision was still hazy. He had dreamed of Emily saying, over and over, "I'm going back to the city. I won't wait for you."

The memory made his chest tighten.

"How... long was I out?"

"Almost a full day." Daniel River handed him a glass of water. "You lost a lot of blood. You need rest."

A day? Michael abruptly sat up, yanking the IV line.

"I need to leave."

All three men immediately restrained him. "No!"

"I'm fine." Michael stubbornly struggled, sweat beading on his forehead. "I have to go back."

The room fell silent. They exchanged glances—each remembering the name Michael had called out in his delirium.

Samuel sighed. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow... we'll arrange your discharge first thing in the morning."

Outside, the sky darkened. None of them knew a storm was quietly brewing beneath the calm of dusk.