?<strong>Chapter 128:</strong>


    Reba paced back and forth in the ward, d in a hospital gown. Erick was taken to a ce she didn’t know, possibly a prison. The Miller family wouldn’t let him go after what he had done. She was worried about his safety and also feared being implicated herself.


    At that moment, her phone rang. It was her mother, Salome Lloyd, calling from their hometown. “Reba, what happened to Erick? I called him these past two days, but he hasn’t answered.”


    “It’s nothing, Mom.”


    “Erick isn’t young anymore. It’s time for him to settle down. You two shouldn’t rely on Adrian for everything. Erick should find a job to support himself.”


    Salome rambled on, oblivious to the anxiety gnawing at Reba. Every call from her seemed to focus on trivial matters. Reba was desperate to end the call. “Mom, I really need to go. I have other things to handle.”


    “Just wait, I have more to tell you!”


    Reba knew it would just be more family small talk—nothing urgent. With her anxiety mounting, she couldn’t indulge in a lengthy conversation. She quickly ended the call, but as she did, the door to her ward burst open. Several imposing figures entered with clear bad intentions.


    “Who are you?” Reba demanded.


    “Are you Reba? Irene Miller wants to see you.”


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    “Irene Miller?” Reba’s voice quivered with trepidation. “Adrian’s grandmother?”


    “Yes.”


    Reba instinctively stepped back, forcing a nervous smile. “May I ask what she requires of me?”


    “That depends on what you have done. We are merely executing her orders. Would you prefer toe with us voluntarily, or should we ensure your cooperation?” Reba eyed the thick hempen rope in their hands, her decision swift. “I can walk on my own.”


    However, after merely a couple of steps, she copsed to the floor.


    “She fainted?” one of the men queried.


    “It appears she’s quite ill. I’ve heard rumors of a brain tumor. What’s our next move? Should we get her medical help or just carry her back as instructed?”


    “Mrs. Miller was clear—if she dies, she’s to be brought back regardless! We carry her.”


    “I’ll fetch a doctor to apany us.”


    Just then, Reba’s eyes fluttered open, and she clutched her head, looking around in confusion. “Excuse me, who are you?”


    The men exchanged startled nces, their initial resolve shaken by her disoriented state. “Stop pretending. Come with us!”


    Reba sat on the floor, scrambling backward with her feet. “Who are you? Don’te any closer! I’ll call the police if you take another step!”


    The man with the thick rope moved to restrain her, but hispanion halted him. “I heard she has a rare condition that affects her memory periodically.”


    Noticing the genuine confusion in her eyes, he approached more cautiously. “We were sent by Irene Miller. She’s requested to see you.”


    Reba clutched at her chest, her anxiety palpable. “Irene Miller? Adrian’s grandmother?”


    “Yes. Will youe willingly, or must wepel you?”


    Reba avoided their gazes, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll go by myself.”


    The car halted at the vi’s entrance. The driver opened the back door for Adrian as Joelle sat waiting inside. The ride to the Miller Mansion was silent, filled with unspoken tension. It was dark when they arrived.


    Upon entering, Joelle immediately noticed Reba’s absence. The living room was deserted, not a servant in sight. Amara emerged from a door, her eyes briefly meeting Joelle’s before she moved decisively toward Adrian. “Your grandmother is still upset. Tread carefully with your words.”


    “Okay. Where are Uncle Quincy and the others?”


    “They’ve been sent away by your grandmother. Even if she hadn’t, I would have driven them out myself. They think they can mock us? No chance!”


    “How has Grandma handled Spencer’s situation?” Amara replied, “She’s ordered him locked up and forbidden anyone from pleading for him. Adrian, your grandmother still supports you.”


    “Alright, I’ll go see her first.”


    Adrian grasped Joelle’s hand, noting her sweaty palm. It was clear she was on edge. Joelle sneered inwardly. Despite the tension, Adrian seemed determined to maintain the facade of a caring husband before his grandmother. But she couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer.


    When they reached the door to Irene’s bedroom, the guarding servant stepped inside to announce their arrival. Irene allowed only Adrian to enter initially. Joelle waited outside, her anxiety mounting.


    Inside the room, Adrian bowed his head respectfully. “Grandma, I’m sorry.”


    Ireney in the bed, her hands resting on her chest, her gaze distant and unfocused. Adrian adjusted her quilt gently, while she stared nkly at the ceiling and began to speak slowly. “Was it really you who took Joelle for the abortion?” After a brief pause, Adrian responded, “Yes.”


    Irene inhaled sharply. “There’s a lot of conflicting informationing from Quincy’s family, and your mother’s opinions don’t help. Adrian, you’re a good boy. I trust only what you tell me. What exactly happened?”


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