Five Years Wasted Now They Beg Her Back novel Chapter 217

It was quiet in the police car.

Elliot was a steady driver.

From time to time, he would glance at Grace in the back seat through the rearview mirror.

Her head was turned, watching the city lights fly by the window.

Her profile was gaunt, her jawline so sharp it was painful to see.

"So..."

Elliot hesitated for a long time before he finally couldn't help but speak.

"Have you... been doing well all these years?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.

Wasn't that just asking the obvious?

The case file spelled it out clearly.

Abused, divorced, her leg broken, forced to donate bone marrow.

How could anyone call that "doing well"?

Grace turned back, a faint smile on her lips.

The smile was like a withered flower, completely devoid of life.

"I'm still alive."

Just three words, yet they were heavier than any accusation.

Elliot's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Things will get better," he offered awkwardly. "The bad guys are all locked up now."

"And... Mr. Clarke, he treats you well, right?"

As he asked this, a sour feeling rose in Elliot's chest.

The girl he'd had a crush on his entire youth had ended up marrying someone else.

And it was to that untouchable big shot.

Grace paused for a moment.

The image of Damien, covered in blood but still protecting her, flashed in her mind.

A hint of warmth finally returned to her eyes.

"Yes, he's very good."

"He's the best person to me in the whole world."

Hearing this, Elliot Ashcombe was filled with mixed emotions.

He was happy for her, yet felt an indescribable sense of loss.

"That's good."

"We're here."

The car came to a smooth stop in front of the hospital's inpatient building.

Elliot turned off the engine, got out, and walked around to open the back door for Grace.

"Since I'm here, I might as well go up and see Mr. Clarke."

Elliot took a gift basket from the trunk.

Filled with restraint, admiration, and a touch of the bitter sorrow of unrequited love.

Alarm bells went off in Damien's head instantly.

"And who is this?"

Damien narrowed his eyes, exuding an intimidating presence that couldn't be ignored, even from his hospital bed.

"Hello, Mr. Clarke."

Elliot stepped forward and placed the gift basket on the bedside table.

His tone was respectful but not subservient.

"I'm Elliot Ashcombe from the city's Criminal Investigation Division. I'm also a middle school classmate of Grace's."

Grace?

Calling her by her first name so casually?

Damien's expression darkened further. He glanced at Grace.

Grace was looking down, pouring a glass of water, and didn't notice the undercurrent of tension between the two men.

"Ah, an officer of the law."

Damien forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Ashcombe, for going out of your way to bring my wife home so late."

He deliberately stressed the words "my wife."

The attempt to assert his claim couldn't have been more obvious.

Elliot was a smart man; he naturally picked up on the hostility in Damien's words.