The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 558

Garrison froze for a moment, then suddenly curled the corners of his mouth.

"That's good."

Right after he said that, it was as if something caught in his windpipe, and he began to cough uncontrollably.

It started as a suppressed, muffled cough.

He covered his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking slightly as he desperately tried to force the cough back down.

But the coughing was like a tidal wave, crashing harder and harder, impossible to hold back. His chest began to heave violently, and he doubled over in his chair.

He clamped his hand tightly over his mouth, his other hand forming a fist and pressing hard against his stomach. His knuckles turned a sickly, pale white, and beneath his prison uniform, his bony spine shook violently with every hack.

It took a long time before he finally lowered the hand covering his mouth, hiding it under the table, the corners of his eyes red from the strain.

But Sloane still saw it. There was a patch of dark, wet blood in his palm. Sloane felt as if her heart was being sliced open.

"Garrison, where does it hurt? Have you taken your medication?!"

"I'm fine," Garrison gasped, forcing his heaving chest to calm down. His voice was raspy. "I just choked on something, that's all."

At that moment, a guard walked over.

The burly guard grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him up from the chair.

Garrison stumbled forward from the force, his face instantly draining of color. Cold sweat immediately beaded on his forehead, and he practically pitched forward onto the ground.

"Visitation time is over. Back to your cell."

"Garrison!"

Sloane felt her heart tearing apart. She stood up in absolute desperation, slamming her hands against the glass wall and shouting, "Just hold on a few more days! Just a few more days—I'll get you out of here!"

"I swear—I'll get you out."

*

A few days later, Sloane sat in the chairman's office at Taylor Manufacturing Corp.