Chapter 100

Drake reached for James's phone. "Let me see that."

James handed it over.

Drake clutched the device, watching the birthday video repeatedly, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Trump's face darkened with anger. "Looking at you like this makes my blood boil! Pull yourself together!"

Margaret tugged at his arm. "Our son is lying here after trying to kill himself, and you're making things worse? What do you mean, 'pull yourself together'? Wasn't he the one who secured that investment for your company? Without Drake, your company would have gone bankrupt by now!"

Trump remained rigid, silent. He gave Drake a long, penetrating look before leaving.

Sienna, witnessing Drake's obsessive replaying of Thalia's video, couldn't bear to stay and also departed.

"Honey, you need to forget about that woman," Margaret said, her voice breaking, wiping away tears. "I'll introduce you to someone much better."

James sighed deeply. "Drake, come on, man, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Why fixate on just one? I can hook you up with anyone you want."

Drake stared vacantly at the video, silent.

Mason shook his head. "Let's give him some space. He needs time alone."

"No way!" Margaret protested. "I'm not leaving him alone again! What if he tries to kill himself again?"

Teresa's bone marrow transplant was successful. She showed no signs of rejection, and her life was no longer in danger. Thalia could finally focus on other matters. She had spent the past few days preparing case materials and attending court. After learning of Drake's suicide attempt, Thalia no longer felt safe in her Tribeca apartment. Asher had bought her a new apartment at Pan Peninsula in Canary Wharf, about four miles from her law firm—a convenient commute. That Saturday, Thalia hired a housekeeper to pack her belongings and a moving company.

Chapter 100 (Continued)

As the last suitcase was being carried out, Drake emerged from the elevator. He looked deathly pale, with sunken eyes and dark circles, appearing utterly haggard and considerably thinner. He saw the movers and stopped, his gaze falling on Thalia.

"You're moving out?"

Thalia merely nodded. As she approached the elevator, Drake grabbed her wrist.

"Thalia, please don't go," he pleaded, his eyes filled with fragmented emotions. "I promise I won't bother you anymore. Please don't move away. I just want to be near you, quietly by your side."

Thalia looked down at his hand. "Let go!" Her voice was ice-cold.

Drake held on. Thalia pulled away forcefully. He tightened his grip.

"Drake, you're hurting me!" Thalia cried, her brow furrowed.

Drake released her instantly, as if shocked. Guilt flashed across his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Thalia. I didn't mean to—I just… I just don't want you to leave."

Thalia rubbed her reddened wrist, speaking in a detached tone: "I've made myself perfectly clear. We can never go back to the past, nor can we start over. There's no need for these self-pitying dramatics."

She took a few steps, then turned back, looking directly into Drake's eyes. "I heard about your suicide attempt. Drake, if you're truly this unstable, I can only be grateful that I left you, not touched that you supposedly love me so much you can't live without me."

Thalia continued calmly: "Don't try anything like that again. I don't want a failed relationship to end with blood on my hands."

Thalia entered the elevator with the movers. Drake remained rooted to the spot, replaying her words. She had said, "Don't try anything like that again." Didn't that mean she still cared?

Chapter 100 (Continued)

She cared whether he lived or died. She didn’t want him to devalue his life. At this thought, Drake’s eyes reddened. He knew Thalia couldn’t be so cold-hearted. There was still hope.

The apartment Asher had bought for Thalia was in the prestigious Pan Peninsula complex at Canary Wharf, offering spectacular views of the Thames and the docklands. From the balcony, one could see the vast riverscape and impressive London skyline. The apartment was fully furnished with top-quality appliances, and the interior design perfectly matched her preferences—a testament to Asher's thoughtfulness. Thalia directed the movers as they placed her belongings. She had left most of her furniture and appliances at her Tribeca flat, bringing only personal items. Once settled, Thalia showered and slept soundly.

Mason worried that Drake was developing psychological problems. He constantly deluded himself that Thalia still loved him. When Mason visited, he often heard Drake talking to himself, conversing with an imaginary Thalia.

Mason placed a hand on Drake's shoulder. "Dude, you're seriously freaking me out."

Drake seemed not to hear, continuing his conversation with the imaginary Thalia, seemingly content in his delusion. At mealtimes, he set an extra place, saying Thalia would be joining them. Mason strongly urged Drake to see a psychiatrist. Drake adamantly refused, insisting he was fine. Eventually, Mason and James had no choice but to take Drake to the hospital.

Chapter 100 (Continued)

The psychiatrist was a woman in her thirties, Dr. Emiliana Hawards. Her practical short haircut conveyed intellectual elegance. One workday afternoon, shortly after her lunch break, Dr. Hawards arrived at the hospital. She had barely settled when Drake was brought in. As an experienced psychiatrist, Dr. Hawards found patients like Drake exceedingly rare. This young Mr. Ashcroft was handsome and wealthy. Conventionally, wealth lessened love's impact, as money often facilitated its acquisition. The meme, "Young, successful, and driving a Bentley—love is just another game to play," came to mind. For someone of Drake's standing, love often seemed insignificant compared to reputation, status, power, and wealth.

Drake resisted treatment fiercely. "What the hell are you doing? There's nothing wrong with me! Let me go—I want to go home!" he shouted.

Dr. Hawards recognized the severity of his condition. This wasn't simply unwellness—it was serious. She engaged Drake therapeutically. The agitated Drake gradually calmed and followed her conversational lead. Dr. Hawards informed Drake that his mental state was dangerous, putting him at high risk of further extreme behavior.

Drake laughed bitterly. "I'll be honest—I've already gone there."

Dr. Hawards frowned.

Drake murmured, "A few days ago, I tried to kill myself. Unfortunately, I didn't succeed." He pulled up his sleeve, showing the scar on his wrist. "This scar is proof of my love for her."

Chapter 101