The Enticing CEO’s Chosen Bride novel Chapter 1892

The relentless downpour had raged the whole night through.

Now, standing sentinel over the expanse of green, the air was fresher than ever—a crisp, clean scent that only came after a storm. Yet the paths were marred by deep ravines carved by the rain's fury, muddy water still trickling through them, carrying with it the detritus of twigs and decayed leaves.

Outside the orphanage, the world seemed unnervingly quiet, the sound of running water and bird calls piercing the silence with an unusual clarity.

"No way." Boyd's voice finally broke through the stillness, eerily calm, bordering on the sinister.

Ava pressed her lips together, her hands shaking slightly. "Anyway, that's what happened. Believe it or not, it's up to you."

Boyd's fists clenched tight, his breathing growing ragged as a terrible pressure built up in his chest, as if the air were being slowly siphoned away.d2

A chill ran down Ava's spine at his demeanor, a coldness that seeped inside and made her shake uncontrollably. "I... I have to go. I'm so cold."

Boyd remained rooted to the spot, his mind a void of emptiness, yet paradoxically sharp and clear. So clear that every nerve felt like it was being mercilessly torn apart.

Yasmine was gone? How could that be?

She was only ten. People died when they were old and gray, didn't they? She should have had at least sixty years ahead of her. How could she be gone?

After a long while, he suddenly looked up toward the road leading to town. He was about to run, but the orphanage's director grabbed his arm with a force that stopped him dead, his voice low and stern, "Boyd! Where do you think you're going?"

Boyd turned, meeting his gaze, and the director was taken aback. He had never seen such an expression on the boy before—eyes rimmed red with barely restrained emotion, as if he was on the verge of complete collapse.

Yet, he managed to hold on.

"They said Yasmine's dead. That can't be right, can it?"

The director pursed his lips, his face a portrait of sorrow and regret, "We all wish it weren't true."

Boyd felt a pang of disappointment. What he wanted—needed—was absolute certainty. He needed someone to tell him that Yasmine couldn't be dead.

"So, I have to see for myself. She's just hurt, right? We need to get her to the hospital, and she'll be fine, won't she?"

The director hesitated, looking at Boyd’s stoic face, then nodded. The director snapped back to reality the next second. "What will be will be. I'll look into it. For now, you need to go back inside. From now on, nobody leaves the orphanage without permission."

Boyd stood motionless.

The director sighed, "Boyd, I've always thought you and Yasmine were two of the brightest kids here. I understand that this is a huge blow. Something happened to your best friend, and I get it. But look around—do you really plan to walk to town? When will you get there, and where will you even start to look for her?"

Boyd's eyes trembled as reality set in. He was powerless to do anything right now.

The director pulled him back toward the orphanage, "I care about Yasmine too, so I'll keep tabs on the situation. What you need to do is not add to the chaos."

Trouble rarely comes alone, and the chaos mentioned by the director was quick to follow.

The kidnapping of a child from the orphanage and another kid's fall from the mountainside while trying to rescue them became a headline-grabbing news story.

In the days that followed, the orphanage was busier than it had ever been since its inception with police officers, media, and a barrage of questions. There wasn't a moment of peace.

Even the attempt to keep things under wraps was futile. Soon enough, all the children at the orphanage knew.

Yasmine died, falling from a steep cliff while trying to save Serana, whom she had always disliked.

"Poor Yasmine. I used to wrongly think she was a troublemaker."

"Yeah, I always knew she wasn't as bad as she talked. A bad kid couldn't have grown such beautiful flowers."

"Right. And a bad kid wouldn't share her birthday cake with us."

"She was just tough. Last time she came by, she was in such a hurry that she fell hard. I heard her gasp in pain, but she didn't cry."

"She was really brave, wasn't she? How could she not cry when she was sad?"

Boyd had been unable to focus on his studies recently. Instead, he spent his days sitting by the flowerbed, silently tending to the lilies that grew taller each day.

He shouldn't have reacted to the children's words, but as he heard their varying opinions of Yasmine, his anger boiled like water on a stove, ready to burst.

Yes, he was angry.

But more than that, he was angry at himself. He resented their changing attitudes, and he despised himself for being just like them.

Maybe he was even less forgivable.

They could now openly express their misunderstandings and regrets about Yasmine. Their connection to her was nothing more than sharing the same orphanage.

But him? He had been her friend for nearly three years. To her, he was the only one.

If it hadn't been for him, perhaps none of this would have happened. He was the closest person to her, and yet, he had hurt her the most.

The plastic watering can in his hand was squashed out of shape from his grip. He looked up, his face darkening, his usually calm voice laced with a harsh edge.

"When did she fall?"

Biting her lip, she locked eyes with Boyd and said deliberately, “She will never come here again.”

Boyd froze on the spot.

The reporters immediately went into a frenzy. Taking things out of context, generalizing from the specific, was their instinct when it came to highlighting the main point.

To them, saying "She will never come here again" was no different from saying Yasmine was dead.

The reporters then noticed the director and the officer who had just entered the office.

Even from a distance, they jostled to get their questions in.

“Is what that child just said true?”

“Did Yasmine really die?”

The gravity of a life lost now completely overshadowed the kidnapping case of Serana.

The director stood hesitantly, regretting his timing. This was a tough question indeed. But given the circumstances, he had no choice but to face it head-on.

“Regarding the kidnapping incident at our institution…”

The reporters weren’t interested in that anymore, but they still listened to the story from beginning to end. Then they brought the focus back to Yasmine.

The director sighed, “It’s truly regrettable. Yasmine, although only ten years old, was very bright and decisive. As this was the path she chose for her life, we must respect it. I also implore you all not to dwell on this matter any longer. She was a private person, never one for too much attention. Now that it's come to this, please give her the peace she deserves. Thank you all.”

Finishing his statement, the director bowed deeply to the media.

He felt sorry for the child behind him, but if Mr. Bryson had requested it, to fully protect Yasmine, he had to comply.

A moment of sorrow for one child weighed less than a life at stake.

The reporters murmured sympathetically.

Boyd remained standing, his posture rigid, his face alarmingly composed.

--

At the city hospital, in a certain room.

Yasmine lay in the hospital bed, her body swathed in white bandages, save for her eyes and nose. Two soft pillows propped her up as she stared quietly at the wall-mounted TV.