?<strong>Chapter 1435:</strong>


    “I don’t care how he feels right now!” Dolores barked, her face reddening. “He’s got amnesia! When he remembers, he’lle back to me!”


    A bitterugh escaped Lowell’s lips, dry and humorless. “Amnesia, huh? Sure, let’s me it all on that. But here’s the thing—he sees you, Dolores, and there’s nothing. No recognition, no spark, not even irritation. You’re a stranger to him.”


    “Why won’t you help me?” Dolores’s voice rose, trembling with fury. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her anger spilling over like a dam breaking.


    Lowell didn’t answer, his silence more cutting than words. He watched as Dolores’s breathing grew ragged, her fiery temper slowly giving way to a storm of sobs. Her rage ebbed, reced by something quieter, more broken.


    After the storm of her outburst, Dolores began to settle, the heat of her anger ebbing away like waves retreating from the shore. Slowly, rity crept in, softening the lines of her tense face. Yet, as the fog lifted, a new tide of anguish washed over her. rity brought no sce—only the bitter sting of reality. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, each sob cutting deeper, carving out the hollow ache in her chest.


    “I love Shaun. Can’t you see that? I’m vulnerable, Lowell. Of course, I want him here. Why is that so wrong?”


    Her relentless tears gnawed at Lowell’s patience, each sob like nails on a chalkboard.


    Without a word, he reached into his pocket, fishing out his phone. He scrolled until he found a photo buried deep in his gallery. The image wasn’t much—just the edge of a woman’s waist, identally captured while he’d answered a call at work.


    The dim lighting only hinted at her curves, a tantalizing sliver of bare skin.


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    But that sliver was enough. It stirred something in him, like a me reigniting in a long-dormant hearth. Memories rushed back, vivid and heady, of her warmth beneath his touch. That fleeting connection, however brief, left him aching, filled with longing for her.


    Thinking of her, he felt his throat tighten, his mouth ufortably dry. They’d only met twice, yet the intensity of those encounters lingered, haunting him. She was a mystery—no phone number, no email, nothing. It was as if she’d deliberately erased herself, choosing to remain an enigma, a fleeting dream he couldn’t chase.


    Lost in the haze of his thoughts, Lowell barely registered Dolores calling his name. She called again, then again, her voice rising in frustration. Finally, her patience snapped. With an angry flick of her hand, she swept a ss off the bedside table.


    The crash was deafening, the sound of shattering ss sharp and jarring—a perfect echo of Dolores’s fractured emotions.


    The noise jolted Lowell back to the present. His gaze shifted from the shards scattered across the floor to his sister’s defiant expression. His annoyance red. “You’re lying in a hospital bed, Dolores. Can’t you manage to stay still for a few minutes?”


    Dolores’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Is that really how you’re going to talk to me?”


    Lowell didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled out his phone and called for a cleaner, his movements deliberate and unhurried.


    Dolores’s gaze followed him, sharp and unrelenting, her frustration bubbling over into suspicion. “Are you seeing someone? Is that what’s got you so distracted? Were you thinking about a woman?”


    Lowell sighed, shooting her a look of pure exasperation. “Is that the best you cane up with? Making up stories to entertain yourself?”


    A brittleugh escaped Dolores’s lips, bitter and cutting. “I don’t actually care who’s on your mind. But as your older sister, I’ll give you some advice. Heir to the family or not, love’s a luxury you can’t afford.” Her voice dripped with disdain as she added, “Women are for fun, not forever. And for God’s sake, don’t go getting anyone pregnant. Bastards are a nightmare to deal with.”


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