She extended her arms, desperately desiring to pull Zack into a tight embrace, yet the exact fraction of a second her skin contacted his form, his physical structure dissolved into absolute transparency, transforming back into a cloud of white mist before her eyes.

Confronted with the sudden emptiness of the space, a wave of frantic panic seized her heart: "Zack!"

Her eyes snapped open with violent urgency, yet the image that rushed into her field of vision was the stark, sterile white of a ceiling, the ambient atmosphere saturated by the distinct, heavy scent of hospital disinfectant.

Chloe monitored the reality of her surroundings, every detail exceptionally authentic.

It turned out... her existence had not crossed the threshold of death.

"Awake?" A deeply familiar voice resonated from her side. "Do you experience thirst? Do you require a swallow of water?"

shifted her head slightly, noting Eric Vance pushing himself up from his seat to pour a cup of warm water for her system.

She possessed absolutely no data regarding the exact number of days her consciousness had remained locked in a comatose state, yet Eric's posture suggested he had been standing guard by her bedside for an exceptional duration.

The designer suit jacket molding his frame was heavily creased and distorted, a layer of light dust clinging to the fabric. His overall expression was profoundly exhausted, heavy dark circles framing his eyes, while a layer of rough stubble lined his jawline.

Perhaps because her eyes had never once monitored Eric in such a thoroughly compromised state, an unidentifiable, suffocating sensation settled deep into Chloe's chest.

Eric gently supported her frame, assisting her to transition into a semi-reclined posture against the pillows before placing a cup of warm water securely into her palm.

His vocal delivery was low and gravelly: "It is enough that your consciousness has returned. The medical personnel indicated that your physical system remains exceptionally weak, requiring a prolonged duration of absolute rest."

Her throat was burning with acute pain. She took a shallow swallow of the warm water, allowing the moisture to soothe her parched tissues before inquiring: "Where is Lyndsey?"

"She has already been taken into secure custody. The evidence chain is absolute and unshakeable; the judicial court will initiate the formal trial within two days." Eric's tone was completely devoid of any emotional modulation.

A brilliant flash of joy rippled through Chloe's eyes; she had never anticipated that the legal gears would rotate with such exceptional velocity: "Has the totality of the evidence been secured?"

Eric's gaze dimmed slightly: "Julian had meticulously equipped your person with a miniature recording device prior to the encounter. The absolute entirety of your conversation with Lyndsey has been perfectly preserved. Although the audio files cannot constitute the exclusive foundation of the legal prosecution under specific statutory parameters, they provided the police task force with an invaluable investigative map. Over the past days, they followed the digital trails to execute their searches, and the investigation has effectively achieved a seventy-percent completion rate."

"What about the historical case regarding Zack? Have they successfully unearthed verified evidence for that tragedy?" Chloe inquired immediately after.

Eric nodded in confirmation: "Your biological brother possessed an exceptionally devoted girlfriend. Throughout the past four consecutive years, that young girl has been quietly deploying her personal resources from the shadows to investigate the underlying cause of Zack's demise. Beyond everyone's expectations, her efforts actually yielded the critical piece of incriminating evidence."

Her brother's girlfriend? Chloe's memory of that girl was restricted exclusively to a digital image preserved on Zack's smartphone screen. That young lady had systematically made the journey to visit Zack's final resting place year after year; across all these seasons, the burden she carried must have been exceptionally taxing.

The perimeters of Chloe's eyes flushed a deep crimson once more, her consciousness unable to discern whether the emotion was driven by profound sorrow or overwhelming relief—in all likelihood, it was an absolute convergence of both.

After a prolonged duration, she wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes, her vocal cords raw and strained: "Where is Julian? What is his current location?"

If her auditory faculties had not committed an error prior to her immersion into the deep surf, Julian had undeniably closed the distance to the cliff edge at that precise juncture. Now that her own consciousness had returned to the waking world, there was absolutely no logical reason for his presence to be missing from her bedside.

The expression masking Eric's features turned completely unreadable, his face darkening in a fraction of a second: "Prioritize your physical recovery. As for his condition... you may navigate that verification at a later juncture."

An intense knot of anxiety instantaneously tightened within her chest, her entire frame freezing in place: "Whatever is the underlying meaning of your syllables?! What type of catastrophe did his person encounter?!"

Chapter 36: The Youth Remains the Youth

Within the confines of the sterile recovery room, the stagnant atmosphere was saturated by an undercurrent of intense, uncontrollable panic.

Clatter— Chloe's fingers suddenly lost their baseline coordination, and the porcelain vessel slipped from her grasp, plunging toward the floor.

The shards exploded into a dense cluster of white fragments adjacent to Eric's footwear, the warm water seeping systematically through the fabric of the bedsheets.

A powerful wave of acute premonition swamped her consciousness. Forcing her weakened frame to throw back the heavy blankets, she extended her hand to violently rip the intravenous line from her skin, yet her wrists were instantly pinned down by the crushing weight of Eric's massive hands.

"He did not perish! Does your consciousness truly harbor such an absolute, consuming devotion to his existence?! You are currently entirely incapable of even guaranteeing the survival of your own physical system!" Eric roared, his vocal delivery finally exploding with a surge of raw, uncontrollable fury.

Chloe lacked the physical leverage to override his absolute strength, choosing to cease her struggles as she directed a gaze like a lethal arrow straight into his eyes: "Precisely. My consciousness harbors an absolute devotion to his existence. To my world, he constitutes the solitary family member remaining on this earth!"

The immense pressure radiating from Eric's hands suddenly diminished, the perimeters of his eyes flushing an uncharacteristic crimson: "He constitutes your family? Then what about my existence?! Chloe, my consciousness has completely fallen in love with your person—do you possess even a shred of clarity regarding that reality?!"

A bitter, sorrowful smile traced the contours of her lips: "You claim that your consciousness harbors love for my person? Across the entire duration since my return to this city, did your lips ever articulate a solitary inquiry regarding my well-being? Did you ever bother to ask how my system managed to survive that near-fatal fire? During the eras when my existence was consumed by absolute agony, what was your location?! When my soul desperately required your protection, where were you hidden?! Now that my path has successfully drifted to an absolute distance in accordance with your historical desires, you suddenly materialize to declare that you love me?"

The room plunged into an absolute, graveyard silence, both individuals locking eyes with one another, their vision completely bloodshot from raw emotion.

Deep within Eric's pitch-black eyes, a complex light flickered—a manifestation of a realization that the surrounding factions could never truly decode. A profound, crushing wave of absolute helplessness settled into his soul.

He suddenly unearthed the terrifying reality that his definition of love was restricted exclusively to absolute possession—a structural flaw that Chloe's consciousness had already mapped out with perfect clarity.

And the moment his hands successfully secured absolute possession of an asset, his character was entirely devoid of the capacity to cherish it.

He had never truly cared about the structural mechanism that permitted Chloe to survive the inferno; his cognitive processing was restricted to the simple reality that since her physical form was intact, she defaulted to her natural status as his wife.

For the very first time in his existence, he recognized the absolute validity of Chloe's historical words: as long as a specific torment fails to physically descend upon his own flesh, his consciousness would remain permanently incapable of comprehending the pain.

Taking advantage of his emotional paralysis, Chloe firmly pushed his hands aside, forcing her weakened frame to rise from the mattress and step toward the exit of the room.

She dragged her feet forward one painful step at a time, her entire system thoroughly incapacitated by the chemical exhaustion, yet her teeth remained tightly clenched to force compliance from her muscles.

The exact fraction of a second her fingers contacted the door mechanism, Eric's low, gravelly voice finally drifted from behind her form: "Precisely. In all likelihood... my consciousness does not harbor love for your person to the degree my imagination constructed."

In all mathematical probability, the entity he loved with absolute devotion was none other than himself.

Consequently, the exact moment his eyes monitored her falling into the black ocean, his system had failed to seamlessly leap into the abyss to execute a rescue without a second thought.