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.”

was a brief flash of disappointment in his

even die with the

“I’d suggest

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

set up the freezer, and they would just put the

agreed. “Leaving her out here is going to make her

was not as if Isaac

would lose whatever fantasy he had been holding on

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

refused to confront

present circumstances prevented him from lying to

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

the mortician could not restore Irene’s face, he did not have

James and mortician left,

high–and–mighty bigwig who

turned out that he felt

was profound, suffocating

while the mortician fixed up Irene’s body however he could. He also applied a special powder

Ricky Spencer

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

and clasped a hand over his mouth,

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 river immediately afterward, so there’s no mistaking it–we all wish it was otherwise, but it’s

us.”