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.”

a brief flash of disappointment in his

not even die with the

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

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

freezer, and they would just

the mortician agreed. “Leaving her out here is going to make her vulnerable

as if Isaac did not know

Irene’s body was placed in a casket, he would lose whatever fantasy he had been

was a

now, he refused to confront that

may, present circumstances prevented him from lying

around, he spoke almost inaudible, “Get it done, James.

mortician could not restore Irene’s face,

and mortician left,

bigwig who faced

utterly vulnerable, for it turned out that he felt pain and

that pain was

casket, while the mortician fixed up Irene’s body however he could. He also

when Ricky Spencer suddenly

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

a crouch right then and clasped

make a fuss,” he said, meeting Ricky’s gaze. “I wasn’t there when it happened, but the people who were there saw the explosion, and she was in the middle of it. They also fished her out of the

us.”