Chapter 639 Is She Really Not Doing Well?

Ryan only cared about finding someone who could bring real value to his family.

Back when Daphne was alive, she had pushed hard for Kyla to marry Preston and cancel his engagement to Tilda. Ryan had backed her up because Kyla was the Jensons’ heiress, their prized daughter.

As long as Preston ended up with Kyla, the alliance between the Jensons and the Bells would give his family a powerful edge.

But now, Kyla was no longer an ideal choice. Her beauty had been destroyed, and even her own family had stopped valuing her.

The woman Ryan wanted for Preston now was Tilda–the dazzling, world-renowned junior of Dane, gifted with extraordinary talent.

That was why Ryan brought Preston to see Justin this time.

After some polite conversation, Ryan asked to speak privately with Russell and Blair.

Blair, eager for news about Daphne, agreed right away.

That left Kyla standing there.

She lowered her head like a small, abandoned puppy, her voice soft and trembling. “Then… I’ll just go home first…”

Blair’s heart ached at the sight. “Can’t Kyla come with us?”

Ryan answered evenly, “This is business, not a family chat. The kids don’t need to sit in.”

The truth was, anything he was about to say would only upset Kyla, so it was better if she stayed behind.

“Let’s go,” he urged.

Russell was more than happy to leave her out. Watching Kyla cry and play the victim in front of Blair disgusted him. Keeping her away was the wisest choice.

Ever since he discovered her true colors, everything she did looked fake to him. He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been before–completely fooled by her act.

“Kyla, you’ve done a lot looking after me and Justin,” Blair gently said to her, “Go home and rest. We’ll talk with Ryan and Preston, and then we’ll be back soon.”

Kyla forced a brittle smile. “Alright.”

And just like that, she was left behind.

The four of them walked farther and farther away, leaving Kyla with nothing but her broken heart.

Standing in the sunlight, she felt as cold as if she were trapped in the dead of winter. Her whole body went numb, drained of warmth.

Her fists tightened slowly at her sides.

Shame and fury boiled up inside her.

From the day she was born–even as the Jensons’ heiress–she had never felt so small, so completely discarded.

In the past, no matter how delicate the topic was, all she had to do was put on a pitiful act, and Russell, Blair, Ryan, and Preston would always let her sit in.

She was only ever left out if she excused herself.

But now?

Her pitiful act didn’t move anyone.

Even when Blair tried to speak up for her, Russell’s decision carried the most weight.

Kyla had been erased–treated like she didn’t even exist.

“Damn Preston, Ryan, the Jensons…” she hissed under her breath.

“You’re all so obsessed with Tilda that you don’t care about me anymore. Fine! You can’t blame me for just protecting myself. You drove me to this! You started this, so don’t blame me when I fight back!”

Her words were as much a warning to others as they were a vow to herself.

Her face twisted, looking fierce and almost feral.

Passersby looked at her as if she were a dangerous lunatic.

They hurriedly covered their eyes and left, afraid that if they stayed one second longer, Kyla might notice and come after them.

Meanwhile, Ryan led Russell and Blair into a nearby lounge and booked a private room.

Preston couldn’t understand why his father insisted he come.

It was Ryan’s meeting, not his.

Given Preston’s current standing, he shouldn’t have been involved at all.

But since Ryan demanded it, he kept quiet and followed.

Once they had warmed up with a few sips of tea, Blair finally asked the question that had been gnawing at her.

“Ryan… how is Daphne’s treatment at Motrar going? Why haven’t we heard a word from her? I’ve sent messages and called, but she never answers. Is she really doing that badly?”

At once, Ryan and Preston stiffened and exchanged a quick look with Russell.

Russell shook his head and gestured for them to let him explain.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Daphne is… essentially like a vegetative patient now. She’s in a coma with no signs of waking. Machines and nutrient drips are keeping her alive. The doctors say her chances are about fifty-fifty, but no one can predict when–or if–she’ll ever wake up.”

“What?!”

Blair went pale, as if lightning had struck her.

She had feared something terrible, but hearing it spoken aloud hit harder than she could bear.

If things weren’t this dire, Daphne wouldn’t have ignored her messages for so long.