Chapter 445: A Love That Came Too Late

Ethan and Jake both died in accidents. I wasn't present. Besides sorrow for their untimely deaths and hatred for the perpetrator, I felt little else. The only effect was a sleepless night.

I thought I'd long severed ties with my identity as the Sander family's fourth daughter. But when Greg's warm blood splattered me, I realized something I'd denied for years: blood ties, however broken—even if the bodies were torn apart—could never truly be severed.

Josh and Kate stumbled towards us, moving unsteadily. Kate, panicked and worried, tripped and fell heavily. Penelope tried to stand but her frail body wouldn't allow it. She could only crawl inch by inch towards Greg. Whitney recoiled, petrified. Tears trickled slowly down her face. Again, her loved ones bled before her; she must have been hurting most.

My vision blurred with the crimson. Before I could think, I crouched, pressing hard on his wound. But the gash was too large; blood poured out, covering my hands.

"Coco," he whispered, weakly touching my face. "It's been a long time since I called you that."

"I—I'm sorry…"

He chuckled, resigned. "So, saying sorry isn't as hard as I thought."

I fought back tears, keeping my voice cold. "I won't accept your apology. Don't think dying makes everything go away."

"Heh… cough… You're still so kind. How could I ever doubt you'd joined the Carlyns to hurt us? Actually… under the plum tree, I buried a jar of Ruby Toast. I planned to open it on your wedding night, but… fate played its tricks. I'm sorry. That night, I thought you'd just run off in a tantrum. I never imagined… Coco, ending like this—it's what I deserve."

He offered a bitter smile. "Dad, Mom… I'm sorry I couldn't fulfill my duty as your son, to care for you until the end."

Kate's tears flowed uncontrollably. Frantically shaking her head, she cried, "No, no! Don't say stupid things like that! You'll be fine!" Josh, usually quiet, wept, his face streaked with grief.

But Whitney, finally snapping out of shock, didn't rush to Greg. Instead, she knelt before Dominic. Grabbing his coat, she pleaded, "Mr. Carlyn, I'm a Sander. Please, let me atone. Torture me, however you like, but please… save him!"

Tears rolled down her sharp chin. But there was no Taylor here; no one to pity her.

Dominic lifted her chin. "Anna, I've already shown mercy by letting you live."

Whitney pushed his hand away, lowering her head in desperation. "Mr. Carlyn, the Sanders are at fault—every mistake is ours. Ethan and Jake are dead. Greg is the last Sander alive. I'm begging you… please spare him. Give the Sanders one last chance. I'll trade my life for his. Please… I'm begging you…"

She kept bowing her head, hitting it against the ground so hard that blood appeared on her forehead. Seeing it pained me. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't move; my hands were pressed firmly against Greg's wound, trying to stem the bleeding.

I had examined his wound. Axes, designed for heavy blows and chopping, are far less precise than a dagger capable of a clean kill. When he'd crashed into me, I'd instinctively pulled back, loosening my grip. The wound wasn't deep enough to be fatal. With timely medical attention, he had a chance to survive.

Whitney had shown composure and logic, both in the car earlier and now. She knew what needed doing in any situation, instead of breaking down and crying.

The Carlyn brothers and Amber were absent, making Dominic's careful planning obvious. He didn't want interference. Compared to Wisteria, Dominic might leave us a sliver of hope. That's why Whitney kept bowing, begging for mercy—trying to stir even the tiniest spark of humanity within him.

Josh stood, unnoticed at first. He picked up the axe I'd dropped.

"Dominic, my mother is guilty. Let me, as her son, pay the price for her sins. I've already lost two sons, and my two daughters have suffered endlessly. Now Greg's life hangs by a thread. If revenge has a target, let it fall on me. Spare his life, and I'll trade a leg for it. How about that?" His voice was steady.

My pupils widened in shock. To me, Josh had always been selfish, timid, and cowardly. Yet, in this moment, he stepped forward.

Dominic's lips curled into an amused smile, making it clear he and Wisteria wanted to inflict endless torment. If they truly wanted to kill us, we'd be dead without ever seeing it coming. Josh's offer piqued Dominic's interest. He sneered, "Alright then. As long as you cut off your own leg with your own hands, I'll spare your son."

Penelope, lying on the ground, was distraught, her face covered in tears, overwhelmed to the point of incoherence. "No… no! Don't!"

Wisteria approached, seizing a fistful of Penelope's hair, yanking her head back. "Watch carefully, you old hag. Watch your son lose his leg. Hurts, doesn't it? But let me ask you this—did you feel anything when my father lost his leg at two years old? He was just a child! How could you Sanders be so cruel?"

"Take mine instead. I'll pay for it with my leg," Penelope cried.

Wisteria laughed coldly. "You? A decrepit old bag halfway to the grave? You've lived a life of luxury, and now you think you can die to escape your sins? Not so fast!"

Her voice turned venomous. "Do you have any idea how much shame my father carried because of that leg? Do you know what we went through? While your son lived like a prince, we Carlyns wore mourning clothes again and again. My father and uncle watched as they buried elder after elder, and they were just kids. They watched as the Carlyns fell from prosperity into ruin until your family drove us to despair. We had no choice but to flee overseas. Do you know what it's like to drift aimlessly on the ocean? To be attacked by pirates? To endure war and survive by sheer luck? You Sanders think your bloodline is precious, but does that mean we Carlyns deserve to die?"

Wisteria pointed at me, her expression fanatical. "And her—Chloe. She was born into a world where everyone adored her, treated her like a princess. And what about us? We had to join an organization just to survive. Do you know how old I was when I first killed someone? Do you know what I had to endure just to fight for a bite of rotting food? Am I really born to be inferior? Is that what you think? That's why I'm going to drag all of you down from your pedestal. Your precious granddaughter—oh, I'm not just going to take away her love and the men who adore her. I'll make sure she dies with no peace, no dignity. I'll have her body crushed to pieces, her skin peeled off, her eyes gouged out, her head severed—"

"Enough!" Kate screamed, her face streaked with tears.

But Wisteria only smiled, her expression demonic. "What's the matter, Mom? Why are you looking at me like that? Do you finally feel sorry for her now? Too bad—it's already too late. The ones who pushed Chloe into the abyss were you. All of you!"

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

But Wisteria's smile darkened. "Do you think eating from her ashes was satisfying? How about you, old hag? You flipped through her skin, praying to your God for mercy—do you think He will bless you? And Luke, that fool, wearing a bracelet made of her ashes, whispering about how much he loved her. Hah! You idiots, all of you. Even now, you blame her for everything…"

Every word was a knife twisting into the Sander hearts. And she knew exactly where to strike.

"What's wrong? Feeling regret now? Want to play the part of a loving family, pretending you want her back? How pathetic. A love that comes too late… is worthless," Wisteria's laughter rang out, sharp and bitter.