Mated To My Best Friend's Lycan Alpha Brothers-Chapter 444: Destined To Not Live A Peaceful Life
(Author’s POV)
"You feeling okay now?" William asked Myra. She nodded, but her hand was still holding onto his in a tight grasp.
The Garcias, after getting a polite yet harsh no from both the father and daughter, returned back to their hotel, dejectedly so. The clear hurt in Amy’s eyes left Myra unsettled, but she shoved that guilty feeling aside quickly.
’Don’t think about it? Those people~ .... they are the ones who left you in an orphanage. They abandoned you. You don’t need to feel pity or beat yourself up for their doing. You already have too much on your plate. Just focus on your health. Don’t sulk because of outsiders,’ she somehow convinced herself to forget about it, at least for the time being.
William could tell something was up, but he didn’t want to stress Myra by asking. He sat beside her and changed the topic, "Should I read you a story? The way your mom used to do it?"
Myra nodded. She wanted to get the load off of her head. William tucked her in bed, took her hand once again and started reading her a random fairytale from his phone, "Once upon a time, there was a little and cute mermaid with golden hair~ ..."
In the middle of the story, William saw Myra’s eyelashes flutter several times. Sleep was written all across her face, but she was fighting it off. She didn’t want to dive into those terrifying nightmares again.
His eyes then landed on her hand. She was now gripping his pinky and ring fingers, just like when she first came to their house in Damona. At that time, she was too scared to let go. Always thinking of getting forsaken again, getting sidelined. By the age of five, she had seen the bad and the worst side of human beings. So, she was always cautious.
William pursed his lips and let Myra be. He continued with the story. As he was about to reach the end, his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He paused and looked at the caller. It was from an unknown number.
He glanced at Myra, who was on the verge of dousing off and decided not to take the call. But the caller remained persistent. It kept chiming, so he had no choice but to attend it. With a low murmur, he spoke, "Hello~ ... who is it?"
Yelena’s urgent, panic filled voice erupted from the other end, "Uncle William, it’s me, Yelena. I~ .... I heard about Myra. Which hospital is she in? Wha~ ... what happened to her? Is she~ .... Is she okay now? Where are you?"
William answered her questions patiently. He gave her the address and the room number, and no sooner than ten minutes had passed, she came rushing into the hospital room.
Yelena’s already tear stricken face was once again stained with fresh flow. Her hand covered her mouth when she saw Myra.
Garry stepped inside, his expression turned stiff as soon as his eyes landed on the person in bed. He oozed out an unreadable demeanour. His fists clenched on either side.
As for Diana, she did not come with them. In the middle of the road, she complained about being extremely exhausted. Kept nagging about how places like hospitals are filled with negative energy, and how bad it would be for her health. She simply didn’t want to waste even a second of her precious time on someone unimportant.
On Garry’s orders, Oliver Grey straightaway took her to the Crown Opulence, while Garry and Yelena took a cab.
William looked at them, nodded politely at Garry and gestured for Yelena to speak softly. Myra had just fallen asleep again. He didn’t want to disturb her rest.
Yelena approached them, her steps small and light. She stood beside William and asked, "Such a thing happened .... why didn’t you call for me, Uncle William?"
William’s eyebrow twitched, "Wendy did call you~ ... but you did not answer up," he told her.
Yelena closed her eyes as realisation dawned on her. Last night, when she was busy texting with Myra at the dinner table, Diana had been watching her closely. She had taken the phone and seized it. Claiming how uncultured and pathetic it was to not eat the food and disrespecting it. She kept on taunting and pinching her with comments about her behaviour every now and then.
Garry came close as well. His heavy voice was light as he asked, "Mr. Miracle, how did this happen to Ms. Miracle?"
William pursed his lips and gave them a brief rundown of the things he knew. All the while, Garry’s expression remained neutral, but his fists were clenching harder and harder.
Yelena, too, was horrified to know the details. She recalled last night how Myra ran out of the restaurant. "I should have followed her. I shouldn’t have listened to grandma and just followed her~ .... I should have kept my promise of driving her back home. I should have~ ..." she blamed herself badly.
Garry patted her back while William comforted her with words, "Yel, don’t blame yourself. It is not because of you but because of those bad people. I will see to it they get punished according to the law." He vowed.
Another fifteen minutes passed like that, then William suggested, "Mr. Yates Senior, Yelena. It is already dark outside. You should return now."
"I will stay, Uncle Will," Yelena said firmly.
William tried to tell her, but she was much more stubborn and didn’t listen. She kept her foot down and refused to go. In the end, Garry called Oliver to come to the hospital with some comfortable clothes suitable for Yelena.
Within fifteen minutes, his secretary came with a few sets of clothes along with the car keys.
Yelena was surprised when Garry said, "Keep it for emergencies. I had already ordered Secretary Grey to bring another car."
Garry, after taking a good and hard look at Myra’s bandage wrapped face, walked out.
Once he settled inside the car, his stiff expression shifted to icy cold, "Secretary Grey, investigate what happened with Ms. Miracle. Don’t leave a single detail."
"Yes, CEO Yates," Oliver replied and started making calls.
Garry looked out of the window. The shadows cast by the street light fell across his face every now and then as he murmured under his breath, "Is it destined for the child not live a peaceful life?"
To Be Continued . . . . . . . .
