Chapter 219 Commit Suicide
Athena, feeling a slight pang of disappointment, stared at her phone screen after reading Byron’s message. If she had known things would turn out this way, she would have planned everything for another day.
She typed a simple response: [Got it.]
Meanwhile, outside the hospital’s emergency room, Byron gripped his phone tightly, guilt weighing heavily on him. He hated lying to Athena, but there was no other choice.
Seraphina, leaning against the wall, was visibly frustrated. “If you want to marry someone else, why couldn’t you just do it quietly? Why did you have to tell her? Didn’t I tell you she once tried to end her life because of this?” Her voice trembled with anger as she confronted Byron. “You knew she still loved you… If I hadn’t finished work early and rushed home, she might not have even been saved!”
Byron snapped back, his voice low but forceful, “That’s enough!”
Seraphina flinched, fear flickering in her eyes, but she didn’t back down.
Just then, the lights in the emergency room flickered out. A doctor stepped into the hallway. “The medication has been flushed out. She needs to be transferred to a ward for observation for the next two days.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Seraphina quickly responded, relief washing over her.
Not long later, Freya stirred in a VIP hospital ward. Her face had grown even paler, her lips tinged with a faint bluish hue. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her gaze seemed hollow, distant.
Seraphina rushed to her side, tears already falling. “Freya, you’re awake! I was so worried about you!”
But Freya’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, unseeing, as if the world around her had lost all meaning. Her voice was soft, almost empty. “Why did you save me again? He’s getting married. My existence… it’s meaningless.”
Byron, who had been standing quietly by her bedside, frowned deeply at her words. His heart ached seeing her in such a fragile state.
“Don’t say that,” Seraphina said urgently, her voice cracking. “Mr. Crawford cares about you. As soon as he heard you were in trouble, he rushed here to be by your side!”
Freya’s eyes slowly turned toward Byron. Her lips trembled as she spoke his name, “Byron?”
Then, as if realizing her words, her face flushed with embarrassment. “Why are you here? I’m fine. It was just an accident… I miscounted the pills. I didn’t mean to…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze.
Byron’s expression hardened. The woman before him, once full of life, was now a mere shadow of herself. What had she endured to become like this?
“I know,” he said gently, stepping closer. His hand landed softly on her shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. “You weren’t trying to hurt yourself. You were just unwell. Once you’re better, everything will be okay.”
But Freya didn’t respond. She trembled slightly before lifting her arm to cover her eyes, stifling the sobs that shook her body.
Meanwhile, Sally Campbell had just returned to the country two days ago. But her return had not been without incident—she’d crashed her car into a bridge pillar, leaving her vehicle undrivable and herself with a broken arm. After getting her arm casted, she had been in and out of the hospital, but she wasn’t one to stay in bed for long. With her arm suspended in a sling, she pushed an IV stand and wandered out of her room.
It was then that she saw a familiar face across the hall. Her heart skipped a beat. “Who is Byron with in the hospital? Could it be Athena?” she murmured to herself, quickly stepping behind a corner to hide and peer inside.
She tried to get a clearer look but hesitated. Sally wasn’t sure whether she should continue watching—after all, Byron could catch her and throw her into the sea again, as he had done in the past. His petty jealousy had led him to send her abroad without hesitation when she merely discussed certain… personal matters with Athena.
The thought of all the bland foreign food she’d been forced to eat made her even more frustrated. But now, she found herself even more concerned about Athena. She liked Athena a lot, but unfortunately, Athena had bad luck with men, especially Byron—someone who seemed incapable of truly caring for the woman who had devoted so much to him.
Sally had seen the marks on Athena’s skin before—the telltale signs that she had endured more than she should have. She had Athena’s contact details, and after a moment of hesitation, Sally dialed her number, hoping to offer some form of support, despite the distance that had come between them.