Chapter 412 Mr. Hearst's Hidden Illness
"Words once spoken cannot be taken back," Damian, in a fit of rage, couldn't care less about the consequences. He suddenly stood up, his tall figure approaching her. With a swift pinch of his long fingers, he grabbed her shoulder, his fierce gaze revealing a strong possessiveness. "I told you, you belong to me, only to me."
Ashley's shoulder throbbed with pain, and she couldn't hold the fruit platter.
The platter fell to the ground, the porcelain shattering into pieces, and the neatly cut fruit scattered everywhere.
She raised her head, tears welling up, suppressing her grief and anger, and gritted her teeth, "Have you been wanting to say these things for a long time? Do you think I'm that kind of person in your heart?"
Seeing her tears, Damian's grip loosened slightly, but his anger hadn't subsided. "You don't need to act pitiful in front of me. I know exactly what you're thinking."
Ashley gave a bitter smile. When she closed her eyes, the tears flowed even more uncontrollably. She didn't want to cry, but her body was out of control, and the tears wouldn't stop. "What do you know? You know nothing."
What was she pretending for?
Wasn't she already in a miserable state?
Damian grabbed her wrist and pulled her back forcefully, holding Ashley tightly against his chest. "Do you think Sean can help your parents come back? Sean's parents and grandfather do hold high positions, but do you believe that if he gets involved in your family's mess, the entire Ross family will be wiped out overnight?"
Ashley, locked in his embrace and unable to move, lost the strength to struggle upon hearing this. She stared into Damian's eyes. "Do you know something? Is my dad's issue with Dorian connected to higher-ups?"
The possibility she didn't dare to think about—was it true?
No matter how angry Damian was, he wouldn't lose control to this extent. He wouldn't reveal things she shouldn't know. Instead, he snorted coldly, "Use your lawyer's brain and think it through."
Ashley couldn't figure it out. No, she didn't dare, didn't want to think too deeply. She feared that her thoughts would come true. Now, she felt like a piece of driftwood, and Damian seemed to be the only barrier.
"What do you know? Do you have a way to help them?"
Damian's thin lips curved into a cold smile. "Don't you think it's ridiculous to ask me this now?"
What was her plan?
Did she see Sean's extraordinary background and want to climb up the Ross family, using Sean's identity to erase her parents' history?
So, she got closer to Sean step by step, with the ultimate goal of marrying him, right?
Damian felt like a joke. He had done so much for her, yet she wanted to cling to another man.
Damn woman! Damn it!
Ashley could almost be certain that Damian was the only one who could be relied on in this matter. He must know the inside story.
As he said, Sean absolutely couldn't get involved in this situation.
Because of his special status, he should completely distance himself from this matter. Otherwise, wouldn't she be harming Sean?
Understanding this, Ashley forced herself to calm down. "What do I have to do for you to help me?"
Damian looked at her pitiful appearance but couldn't muster any sympathy. "Is there anything left on you that I would miss? What do you have to make me take a risk for you?"
Ashley felt as though she had been publicly slapped. All the tenderness, all the self-assumed affection, crumbled into dust.
She slowly deflated, sliding out of his embrace. "I understand. I'm not worthy of Mr. Hearst's help."
Outside, thunder roared again, and lightning flashed across the glass, like a devil's hand trying to grasp a soul.
Ashley looked at the sky obscured by the rain, the day as dark as night, impenetrable.
Damian clenched his fist, long forgetting the injury on his right arm. "Do you think it's God helping your parents live well abroad now?"
Ashley turned back wearily, meeting his eyes filled with anger again. "What do you mean?"
"You probably don't know how many forces want them dead, to silence them forever."
Ashley's knees went weak, and she clung tightly to the bookshelf. "Someone wants to kill them?"
"It's not clear who yet, but the people I sent have stopped them several times. Otherwise, Dorian wouldn't have made it onto the plane alive last time."
Ashley was stunned, dumbfounded.
She thought the danger to her parents came from the Hearst family, that Damian had sent people after them.
She didn't expect other forces wanted to harm them too.
And now, it was Damian who was saving them behind the scenes.
Had she misunderstood something?
"You... sent people to protect them in Sylvania? Since when?"
Damian said, "Would you believe me if I told you?"
Ashley didn't dare to anger him easily. No matter how aggrieved she felt, she had to endure it. "I believe you. Please... please continue to protect them."
These humiliating words were almost buried with all her dignity.
Her pride, her arrogance, suddenly became worthless.
This feeling was truly shameful and powerless.
She really hated it.
"What's the reason?"
"What... what do you want?"
"Tomorrow night at nine, Imperial Residence."
After saying that, he left with a flick of his sleeve.
The door opened and then slammed shut.
Ashley clung to the bookshelf, slowly sliding down until she knelt on the floor.
She hadn't been in the rain, but her back was soaked.
Tomorrow night, Imperial Residence.
The hint was clear enough—Damian wanted her body.
Ashley looked at the lightning and thunder outside the window, suddenly wanting to laugh, but the tears came faster than the smile.
In the end, she couldn't escape, couldn't get away.
He used to talk about giving her a choice, giving her a chance to pick.
Now? He didn't remember a word he said, still so domineering and ruthless, not giving others a chance to breathe.
'Damian, you're so cruel!'
Meanwhile.
Driven by anger, Damian walked into the pouring rain.
His vision was blurred by the rain, ignoring the honking of passing cars. He strode down the sidewalk, disregarding the red lights and the frantic shouts from both sides.
After more than twenty minutes in the rain, his thoughts finally began to clear, and his lost rationality gradually returned.
Only then did he realize how excessive his actions had been.
He irritably took out his phone. "It's me."
Half an hour later.
"Hasn't it gotten much better? Why did you lose control again?" In the most discreet private clinic in Rochester City, Louis, wearing glasses, finished examining him and asked nervously, "What triggered your loss of control?"
Damian took deep drags from his cigarette, the wet tips of his hair dripping continuously, but he seemed not to notice. "Her."
Louis made notes on his iPad, his face turning grim. "Your ex-wife again."
The existing records documented the times and events of Damian's episodes.
Damian wearily pressed his brow, resigned. "It's her."
Louis carefully reviewed the previous records and had to tell him a fact. "Damian, I must remind you, every time you have an episode, it's related to her. If it weren't for her, you should have recovered by now. So you need to think carefully, do you want to recover, or do you want to continue this relationship?"
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