Chapter 539 To Himself
Dominic’s voice carried sorrow that seeped into every corner of the room, pressing down on the air until it felt too heavy to breathe.
Darell couldn’t bear to hear it anymore. The longer he listened, the deeper his heart sank, like his chest was being pulled into thick mud with no chance of escape.
The hallway broke its silence. Quick, firm steps pounded against the floor, sharp in the stillness of two in the morning. Heads lifted all at once. A man in a sharp black suit appeared, the seams crisp, the fabric catching faint light. Dust clung to him. Exhaustion lined his face, but his presence drew every eye.
It was Ryan.
Russell’s brows knit tight. “Ryan? Why are you only showing up now? Do you realize that Daphne has already passed?”
Ryan halted, meeting his gaze. “I got Preston’s message. But I had too much to deal with. That’s why I’m only here now.”
Justin, usually the softest among them, felt anger boil up. “Ryan, Daphne is gone. What could possibly matter more than that? You’re her husband. You should’ve been here the moment it happened.”
Daphne had been dead for over ten hours. As her husband, the man who had shared her life and her bed for decades, Ryan had arrived only now.
That spoke volumes.
“Justin, you’re out of line,” Ryan snapped, his tone sharp as glass. “I’m still your elder. You really think you have the right to scold me?”
His pride refused to bend to someone younger. Justin flinched at the cut of his words. The heat drained from his face, and after a pause, he bowed his head. “I… I’m sorry, Ryan. I spoke too harshly.”
Russell’s expression darkened. “Ryan, don’t be so quick to take offense. Justin’s right. Your wife went through something devastating. How could you show up only now?”
He too believed Ryan had crossed a line. Daphne had her flaws – she was proud, sometimes sharp – but she adored Blair and loved the Jenson children dearly. If not for Daphne’s friendship with Blair, Russell would have kept Ryan strictly at arm’s length. He had always seen Ryan as a man who valued profit over people. Whenever they met, Russell gave polite smiles while keeping his guard raised. He knew Ryan would never reveal his heart. Trusting this man was the last thing he would do.
Ryan’s gaze shifted toward the window. Blair lay unconscious there, her body fragile beneath tubes and machines. His voice dropped low. “Russell, not every family runs like yours. You built everything with your own hands. You and Blair have a marriage built on love, your house is united, and your word carries weight. I respect that. I even envy it.
“But my world isn’t the same. Behind me stand the Bells and my father. This disaster happened at Sunlight Plaza, which I run. Do you think I wanted this?
“If it stains the Bells‘ name, I’ll be the one crushed under the fallout. My brothers won’t save me. They’ll shove me deeper. Jude is waiting for me to slip. With all that you know, you should understand the position I’m in and the pressure I face.”
Russell fell silent.
Ryan tugged at his jacket, smoothing the fabric, regaining his composure. Without another glance, he walked past Russell and left.
Justin’s guilt sank heavy in his chest. “Dad… I’m sorry. I let my temper run wild. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Russell’s voice was steady. “There’s nothing to apologize for. In something like this, everyone carries their own faults. We don’t get to dictate another man’s choices.”
That was the lesson Russell had repeated to the Jensons for years. But this time the loss was Daphne, a woman bound close to their family.
Outsiders could speak with clear heads. Those inside were blinded by grief.
Preston and Rebecca sat beside Daphne’s still body. Rebecca’s eyes were swollen red, tears long since drained, her stare empty as she fixed on her mother’s lifeless form. Preston’s face was hidden in shadow, his thoughts locked away.
Then Ryan appeared in the doorway.
Rebecca’s voice was raw and broken. “Dad… Mom, she…”
Ryan stepped to Daphne’s bedside. He stood there in silence, then said, “I’ll see that your mother’s funeral is handled properly.”
He reached out, his hand hovering above the sheet, ready to pull it back for one last look at her face. But his fingers trembled. His hand stalled in the air, then slowly retreated.
“Stay here with her,” he murmured, and turned to leave.
“Dad!”
Preston shot to his feet. His voice cracked with rage. “You’re leaving again? Mom is gone, and you still can’t stay by her side for her final moments?”
“Preston…”
Rebecca froze, her voice tiny, startled by his sudden eruption.
Ryan turned back. His eyes fixed on Preston, who was red–faced, gasping, shaking with fury. Hatred, grief, and disbelief burned in his stare.
“Do you even know who you’re talking to, Preston?” Ryan’s voice came out like ice.