The Runaway Groom

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.”

and there was a brief flash

even die with

when the mortician said, “I’d suggest moving her to the

quickly echoed, “Yeah, or we could put her in an ice casket if you don’t want

they would just put the ice

out here is going to make

was not as if Isaac did

would lose whatever fantasy

send her to the morgue was a declaration to all that she

now, he refused

present circumstances prevented him from lying to

he spoke almost inaudible, “Get it done, James. Now leave us

not restore Irene’s face, he did not

James and mortician left, however,

was no longer the high–and–mighty bigwig who faced his

turned out that he

pain was profound,

James returned with the ice casket, while the mortician fixed up Irene’s body however he could. He also applied a special powder that would stall putrefaction before they put the body into the

when Ricky Spencer suddenly

“No. No way, it can’t be her…” he murmured, and grabbed the hem of James’s shirt. “It’s not Irene, right?

and clasped a hand over his

people who were there saw the explosion, and she was in the middle of it. They also fished her out of the river immediately afterward, so there’s no mistaking it–we all wish it was otherwise,

us.”