Chapter 428: Wanting to End It All

How wonderful life would be if Taylor weren't part of the Carlyns. I sighed softly and turned around. Carter and Yael were nowhere in sight. A sound of anguish from Yael's bedroom caught my attention. Worried that Carter might lose control and fatally harm Yael, I decided to follow the noise.

The room reeked of blood. Carter stood there, his sleeves rolled up and his watch set aside. A dagger glinted in his hand, its blade smeared with some kind of ointment. His eyes burned with a cold, lethal intent.

“So, dear cousin, do you like my wife that much?” His tone was icy, his voice sharp. He let the blade glide slowly across Yael’s back. I could see the blurred wound, and the uninjured skin dotted with goosebumps. I had never seen anyone use a knife to apply medicine. For a moment, I couldn’t tell who was more perverted.

“Carl,” I said, pushing the slightly open door wider and stepping inside. Carter’s expression flickered with unease when he noticed me, while Yael looked up with an air of innocence. “Chloe…” Carter quickly tossed aside the knife. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I was just cutting open his bandages.”

I glanced at Yael’s bleeding back and gave a faint smile. "Go ahead. It's fine." I didn’t hold anything against Carter because I knew Yael wasn’t innocent. Yael’s difficult past wasn’t my doing, but he was the reason Carter and I were separated. The pain he inflicted on me, like taking away my voice, remained undeniable. Since Carter had always stood by me without hesitation, I felt compelled not to let him down. Our bond had already transcended the boundaries of life and death.

Yael’s gaze flickered with disappointment, but I chose to ignore it, diverting my attention to his room. Carter, clearly fed up with the chaos, had set the knife aside and started tending to Yael’s wound.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a photograph. It depicted a couple with two children. Amber, likely in her 40s or 50s, appeared youthful—barely in her 30s—and carried an air of sophistication. In the photo, she was cold and unsmiling, appearing naive, like in her early twenties. The man beside her was tall and dignified, bearing a strong resemblance to Taylor. His arm rested gently on Amber’s shoulder, his expression refined and kind. Taylor seemed genuinely happy. Then there was Yael, around a year old, wearing yellow duck overalls; his chubby cheeks and soft, slightly curly hair giving him a cherubic charm. He looked remarkably like Amber, with a sweet smile that radiated innocence. Unlike Amber’s serious demeanor, the man and the boys exuded happiness. It was their only family photo.

“How did your father pass away?” I asked.

“In a car accident,” Yael replied, lying on his pillow with his back turned to me. Breaking the silence, he added, “Chloe, I know you plan to take Whitney away. You see Taylor as a monster, but you’ve misunderstood. Without Taylor, she would have died a long time ago. When Whitney first came to the Carlyns at just five years old, my father’s hatred for the Sanders meant her life could have ended as easily as squashing an insect. Despite restricting her freedom, Taylor provided her with the best he could. If not for him, she might have ended up as a blood donor, an organ source, or worse, someone’s plaything. He’s always been her shield.

“You’ve only been with us for a few days, Chloe. What do you know about us? You see the Sanders as victims, but haven’t we suffered too? My father lived through the bitterness of the previous generation’s grievances, battling severe schizophrenia and depression. He saw his parents die and endured a lifetime of pain, even in his short life.”

I couldn’t counter Yael’s words. The truth remained murky, and Grandma still couldn’t speak coherently. However, the Carlyns’ graves on Rosbel Island were undeniable.

Turning to Carter, Yael continued, “And you, do you think my mother treated you poorly? She’s never shown us brothers a single smile. Yet, over the past decade, she’s sent people to protect you, cooked for you, and cleared paths for you behind the scenes. Why do you deserve all that? You’re not her son—I am.”

Carter stayed silent. Apart from Amber’s attempt to kill me, she hadn’t mistreated him. Carter once mentioned how, during his illness, Amber cared for him, while her son clung to the memory of a simple ravioli meal for years.

“Chloe, if Whitney leaves Taylor, she’ll never find anyone who treats her as well as he does. Do you think he’s unwilling to let her go? Or is he afraid to? If she leaves, the rest of the Carlyns might target her. Don’t forget how tragic your end was. What’s more important—freedom or survival? You think Whitney is the one wronged. But from my perspective, it’s Taylor. Without him, her fate might have been worse than yours.”

As Carter silently wrapped Yael’s wounds, Yael’s face reflected his sadness. “All I ever wanted was for my mother to notice me and smile at me. But her attention was always on you. Do you know how much I envied you?”

“Is that why you took Chloe?” Carter asked calmly, refusing to be provoked.

“At that time, Mom ordered Damian to kill Chloe. He had no choice but to hand her over to me. I liked her and wanted her by my side. What’s wrong with that?” Yael replied, adding pointedly, “She’s not yours alone.”

Carter’s voice hardened. “Don’t be so greedy.”

Spending time with Yael revealed to me that his mindset was more like a child’s than an adult’s. Arguing with him felt like picking a fight with a kid.

Later that afternoon, Taylor let Whitney undergo medical checks as we agreed. My heart and her body were perfectly compatible, and her recovery after the surgery was going smoothly. Whitney’s health was fine, and removing the chip was a minor procedure with no major risks.

Overjoyed, I urged Taylor, “Then remove it for her as soon as possible.”

Taylor’s expression darkened as he glanced at me. “I’ll remove it, but on one condition.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I want Anna to marry me in a formal ceremony before I remove the chip for her. If you can’t agree to that, then forget it,” Taylor said firmly. He understood that once the chip was gone, there was a chance Whitney might leave his life for good. Marriage seemed to be an unusual fixation for him, and his tone made it clear there was no room for negotiation.

I turned to Whitney, hesitant to decide on her behalf. “What do you think?”

After a brief pause, Whitney pursed her lips and replied softly, “Alright, I’ll do it.”

I pulled her aside and whispered, “If you’re not comfortable with this, we can find another way. Marriage is a serious commitment.”

Whitney gave me a weak smile. “Chloe, there’s no one else I’d ever marry. This is how I want to bring things to an end with him.”

Amber, on the other hand, showed no interest in her sons. She didn’t care about Yael’s injury or Taylor’s upcoming wedding. She directed her disdain toward me, rolling her eyes while treating Carter with unexpected kindness. Later, I saw her head to the kitchen early to prepare the meal.

Unable to suppress my curiosity, I asked Taylor about the man who always lingered near Amber like a shadow. “Who is that?”

“He’s my mother’s bodyguard,” Taylor replied. “I only know his code name is Hawk. Stay away from him—he’s dangerous and only follows my mother’s orders.”

I nodded, uneasy about the man’s mysterious and menacing presence.

Yael, his face pale from his injury, suddenly spoke up. He licked his dry lips and said, “Chloe, Luke has been to the villa before.”

I was stunned. “What did you just say?”