Chapter 805

"Just try it," Hannah urged, her voice soft but persistent.

Unlike Hannah, whose life was tangled in the high-stakes responsibility of a country and a legacy, Susan and Manuel were free from such burdens. They were two people who had let pride and mistakes tear them apart, but the path back to each other was still open—if only someone would take the first step.

"I don't dare!" Susan flinched, pulling back as if the very idea was painful. She had settled into a fragile contentment with how things were now; she was terrified that reaching for more would shatter the peace she’d fought so hard to find.

"I looked into the CL Group’s recent acquisitions," Hannah said, switching tactics. "The legal owner of the Wells Group, the Cooper Group, and Phillips Bank... it’s Manuel. On paper, he’s the boss of your family’s legacy."

Susan looked confused. "So? He’s rich. That’s none of my business."

"Isn't it? Think about it, Susan. If you remarry him and have a child, your family’s company eventually goes back to your bloodline. You can put your father’s mind at ease. You won't lose anything by trying."

Susan’s expression shifted. The logic was sound, and for a moment, the old Susan—the one who wanted her father's approval and her family's security—flickered to life. She knew Manuel still loved her; he was just a man who had survived too much to be the first one to reach out.

Susan struggled with the thought for a long time, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Then, she took a deep breath and looked at Hannah. "Hannah... I'm hungry!"

Hannah rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. The same old Susan, she thought. She knew better than to push; Susan was like a spring—if you pressed too hard, she would only snap back further.

"Max, could you make Susan some dinner?" Hannah called out.

As Max headed to the kitchen, Susan collapsed onto the sofa. "Hannah, why is being an adult so exhausting? When I was a kid, I was convinced I’d be living on the moon by now."

Hannah laughed, but the laughter didn't reach her eyes. She had long since forgotten her childhood dreams. The only dream she had now was to survive.

Susan reached over and gently touched Hannah's stomach. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Hannah paused. Despite the countless checkups, she had never asked. She realized she had been subconsciously avoiding the question.

"You don't know?" Susan asked, surprised. "What do you want it to be? A son or a daughter?"

Hannah was silent for a long time. Once, she had wanted a girl because Oscar wanted one. Later, she had thought a boy might be better—someone brave, someone who wouldn't be as sentimental or easily hurt as she was.

"A girl," Hannah said finally.

"Is that because of Oscar?" Susan asked, her voice cautious.

"No." Hannah shook her head. Oscar’s preferences no longer carried weight in her heart. In fact, she suspected her child wasn't even the only heir Oscar had to worry about anymore.

The real reason she wanted a girl was simpler and darker: a daughter wouldn't be seen as a threat to anyone’s benefits. A girl might be allowed to stay out of the wars that tore their families apart. She just wanted her child to be healthy, happy, and invisible to the vultures.

After dinner, the two friends retreated to Hannah’s room, lying together just as they had when they were children.

"Hannah," Susan whispered into the darkness, "what are you going to do in the future?"

Hannah stared at the ceiling. What am I going to do? I want to live. I just want to live.

The next morning, Susan was a whirlwind of newfound discipline. When the alarm rang, she jumped out of bed—a habit born of a woman who knew that if she lingered, she’d never get up.

In her morning daze, she walked right into a wall. "Ouch!"

"What happened?" Hannah asked, waking up.

"Nothing! Go back to sleep," Susan hissed, nursing her bruised forehead.

Hannah watched her friend move toward the locker room to pick out an outfit. They had shared clothes since they were toddlers; size was never an issue, and permission was never needed. As Hannah drifted back to sleep, she felt a flicker of pride. Susan had grown up. She was no longer the girl who needed to be dragged out of bed at noon.

Downstairs, Max watched Susan rush out the door, turning down breakfast to get to work on time.

"Life changes people," Max muttered to himself, glancing up at the stairs where Hannah still slept. He wondered if life would ever be kind enough to change things back for Oscar and Hannah, or if some breaks were simply too clean to mend.