Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back - Chapter 108: Chapter 108
You are reading Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back, Chapter 108: Chapter 108. Read more chapters of Your Regrets Won't Bring Me Back.
Puzzled, she asked, "Young Master Simon, what's wrong?"
Simon snapped out of his trance. "Nothing—there are just so many scars I don't know where to begin."
Elena Bennett let out a dry, helpless laugh.
Moments later, a cool, almost icy sensation brushed her skin.
She felt Simon Whitmore's fingertips glide over her scar, tracing it millimeter by millimeter.
His touch was so light it barely stirred the air.
Elena had expected it to feel mortifying, letting a man treat her wounds, yet Simon worked in utter silence, every motion measured and gentle, so sincere she could hear the seriousness in the hush around them.
Not a hint of embarrassment rose in her chest.
When he finished, he picked up a bowl of porridge and stepped to her bedside.
Elena reached to take it, but in a calm, unquestionable voice he instructed, "Sit still."
He lifted a spoonful and held it at her lips.
Unused to being fed, she muttered, "I can manage."
Simon didn't move the spoon away; it hovered patiently before her.
So she opened her mouth and swallowed the porridge.
"Your hands are covered in cuts. They need to rest. They're beautiful—an artist's hands—how could you let them end up like this?" Simon chided softly.
Elena's heart gave a sudden, startled thump.
She thought, 'How does he know I've studied painting since childhood? Something tells me we once shared a past, yet my mind is an empty slate.'
The next day.
News that Bennett Corporation's stock had nosedived shot to the top of every financial broadcast.
The crash traced back to a leaked video of Julian Bennett beating his own sister on a public street.
The scandal roared across the internet like a brushfire.
The corporation hurried out a clarification, claiming there were extenuating circumstances, but online users weren't having it.
People scoffed, [Yesterday the Bennetts donated to an anti-violence charity, today they sent their daughter to the ER—what kind of product could hypocrites like that possibly make?]
Shoppers launched boycotts in every major mall; public opinion plunged ever deeper.
Sleuths revisited the last press conference and saw the Bennetts had never allowed Elena a single word—only frantic self-defense. Their credibility evaporated, and sympathy rallied behind her.
The story clung to the trending list; each time Julian paid handsomely to bury it, it popped right back up.
A chill crawled over him—someone had to be pulling strings against him.
Crisis followed crisis, leaving the entire Bennett household in a blind panic.
After pacing for ages, Adaline said, "Julian, the one who tied the knot must untie it. We need to ask Elena for a letter of forgiveness—maybe it'll rescue our reputation."
At her name, Julian's expression soured; he could still see himself kneeling before Elena.
"She's far too heartless. She'd never sign anything."
"How do you know if you don't try? Come on! If your pride won't let you beg, I will—I'll go plead with her myself!"
With that, Adaline hauled him toward the hospital.
There they learned Elena had already transferred, so they rushed to Samuel Shaw's private hospital.
Inside Elena's new room, Adaline beamed ingratiatingly. "Elena, darling, why didn't you tell Mommy you were switching hospitals? I've been looking everywhere!"
Elena met her eyes. "So after all these days, today is the first time you've bothered to visit me, is that it?"
Simon snapped out of his trance. "Nothing—there are just so many scars I don't know where to begin."
Elena Bennett let out a dry, helpless laugh.
Moments later, a cool, almost icy sensation brushed her skin.
She felt Simon Whitmore's fingertips glide over her scar, tracing it millimeter by millimeter.
His touch was so light it barely stirred the air.
Elena had expected it to feel mortifying, letting a man treat her wounds, yet Simon worked in utter silence, every motion measured and gentle, so sincere she could hear the seriousness in the hush around them.
Not a hint of embarrassment rose in her chest.
When he finished, he picked up a bowl of porridge and stepped to her bedside.
Elena reached to take it, but in a calm, unquestionable voice he instructed, "Sit still."
He lifted a spoonful and held it at her lips.
Unused to being fed, she muttered, "I can manage."
Simon didn't move the spoon away; it hovered patiently before her.
So she opened her mouth and swallowed the porridge.
"Your hands are covered in cuts. They need to rest. They're beautiful—an artist's hands—how could you let them end up like this?" Simon chided softly.
Elena's heart gave a sudden, startled thump.
She thought, 'How does he know I've studied painting since childhood? Something tells me we once shared a past, yet my mind is an empty slate.'
The next day.
News that Bennett Corporation's stock had nosedived shot to the top of every financial broadcast.
The crash traced back to a leaked video of Julian Bennett beating his own sister on a public street.
The scandal roared across the internet like a brushfire.
The corporation hurried out a clarification, claiming there were extenuating circumstances, but online users weren't having it.
People scoffed, [Yesterday the Bennetts donated to an anti-violence charity, today they sent their daughter to the ER—what kind of product could hypocrites like that possibly make?]
Shoppers launched boycotts in every major mall; public opinion plunged ever deeper.
Sleuths revisited the last press conference and saw the Bennetts had never allowed Elena a single word—only frantic self-defense. Their credibility evaporated, and sympathy rallied behind her.
The story clung to the trending list; each time Julian paid handsomely to bury it, it popped right back up.
A chill crawled over him—someone had to be pulling strings against him.
Crisis followed crisis, leaving the entire Bennett household in a blind panic.
After pacing for ages, Adaline said, "Julian, the one who tied the knot must untie it. We need to ask Elena for a letter of forgiveness—maybe it'll rescue our reputation."
At her name, Julian's expression soured; he could still see himself kneeling before Elena.
"She's far too heartless. She'd never sign anything."
"How do you know if you don't try? Come on! If your pride won't let you beg, I will—I'll go plead with her myself!"
With that, Adaline hauled him toward the hospital.
There they learned Elena had already transferred, so they rushed to Samuel Shaw's private hospital.
Inside Elena's new room, Adaline beamed ingratiatingly. "Elena, darling, why didn't you tell Mommy you were switching hospitals? I've been looking everywhere!"
Elena met her eyes. "So after all these days, today is the first time you've bothered to visit me, is that it?"
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