The runaway groom novel (Irene and Isaac) novel Chapter 438

Chapter 438

Nonetheless, James hurried to Isaac’s side. “Sir.”

Isaac glanced at him briefly and asked, “Did you find a place?”

“Yes, sir,” James replied. “We can use it in a couple days.”

“Good.” Isaac remained impassive.

At the same time, James turned toward the man with them, who was dressed formally over his exceedingly fair skin. Also, there was something shady about that face even though he clearly appeared solemn.

“Sir, who is this gentleman?”

Isaac did not answer, and instead headed straight inside the operating room with the man.

James followed, curious.

The man first put down his box and opened it, taking out a pair of gloves and wearing it before pulling off the sheet placed over Irene’s head.

He frowned when he saw the face. “…I don’t think I can do anything here. Burn scars only regenerate on living tissue, but if she’s dead, I can’t restore her face.”

In reality, he was the best mortician Isaac had found to reconstruct cadavers so that they would look their best before they were buried.

Despite his specialty in reinvigorating cold bodies and bestowing upon them eternal beauty, he was shaking his head. “The damage is too extensive. I can’t do much here.”

Isaac’s gaze darkened and there was a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes.

She could not even die with the way she looked before?

That was when the mortician said, “I’d suggest moving her to the morgue soon.”

James had been trying to say the same thing for a while, so he quickly echoed, “Yeah, or we could put her in an ice casket if you don’t want to leave her here in the hospital. We could bring her to the castle now, in fact.”

They just had to wait until Stan set up the freezer, and they would just put the ice casket inside soon after -it should last a while.

“Yes,” the mortician agreed. “Leaving her out here is going to make her vulnerable to damage.”

It was not as if Isaac did not know that.

However, once Irene’s body was placed in a casket, he would lose whatever fantasy he had been holding on to before.

Even to send her to the morgue was a declaration to all that she was dead.

Even now, he refused to confront that reality.

Be that as it may, present circumstances prevented him from lying to himself.

Turning around, he spoke almost inaudible, “Get it done, James. Now leave us be.”

He was somehow informed, and dropped limply to the floor when he saw the unrecognizable body. “No. No way, it can’t be her…” he murmured, and grabbed the hem of James’s shirt. “It’s not Irene, right? How could that ugly thing be her? My sister is so beautiful…”