?<strong>Chapter 407:</strong>


    The news hit like a hammer blow. The Finch family was shrouded in grief, the weight of it suffocating. Stephen, unable to bear the strain, suffered a heart attack and had to be carried away.


    Two ambnces pulled up, and the Finch family crowded into one.


    Gracie and Fred held Dunn’s small hand, their expressions haggard, eyes clouded with worry.


    M broke the suffocating silence first.


    “Fred, Joelle’s son died in our home. What do we do now?”


    Fred, red-eyed and exhausted, shot her a withering look. “Your nephew’s unconscious, and that’s your…”


    concern?” M recoiled, caught off guard by the venom in his words. “But Dunn’s not in danger anymore, is he?”


    Fred growled, his patience fraying. “Just be quiet! Being abroad all these years doesn’t give you the right to be heartless.”


    M didn’t dare to speak again. When they arrived at the hospital, Fred couldn’t leave Dunn’s side, so he asked M to look after Adrian.


    M notified Joelle’s family, but when she attempted to reach the Miller family, she couldn’t get through.


    M??? ?ρ????? ?? ?????ν???.???


    She stopped trying.


    The doctor shared some information with her, and after listening, M made her way to the ward.


    Adriany in the hospital bed, repeating one name, “Joelle…”


    M had never imagined that Adrian would put his life on the line for Joelle.


    For a brief moment, she saw him in a different light.


    As dawn approached, the soft light of morning spilled into the room. One by one, those who had been unconscious began to stir, shaking off the shadows of the night.


    Joelle was thest to awaken. As she slowly opened her eyes, she was greeted by a sea of familiar faces.


    Closest to her was Adrian, his face a blend of concern and relief, followed by Aurora, Shawn, Katherine, Dunn, Gracie, and M, among others.


    “Where’s Rnd?” Joelle asked.


    Adrian sped Joelle’s hand tightly, struggling to find his voice. Each word emerged with great effort, his tone raspy and worn, as if every syble took all he had. “Joelle, you need to brace yourself.”


    Tears silently streamed down Joelle’s face, a testament to the overwhelming reality of the situation. This was not a dream; it was all too real.


    “I need to see him!” she said.


    Her voice was momentarily as hoarse as Adrian’s, a result of inhaling too much toxic smoke. Every word felt like swallowing a de, each syble sharp and painful as it escaped her lips.


    .


    .


    .