The Wrong Woman

“Is Grandma okay? She's fine, isn't she?" Mila's anguished cry tore through the air. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, drowning in a sea of grief as her legs buckled beneath her.

Phoebe swiftly followed suit, enfolding her in a tight embrace as they knelt together on the ground, their bodies intertwined in sorrow.

Mila's cries reverberated, her entire being trembling with despair. She felt utterly powerless to witness Loretta's demise before her eyes and unable to intervene.

From her earliest memories to this very moment, Loretta had been the beacon of love and warmth in Mila's life, and now she had vanished, leaving behind only emptiness. Not even a trace remained.

Mila clutched at her shirt, twisting the fabric into knots over her chest, as if trying to contain the anguish threatening to consume her. But the pain pierced through her, each breath growing shallower, each heartbeat echoing her grief.

With the regret of never having the chance to meet Loretta for the one last time, Mila succumbed to unconsciousness in Phoebe's embrace. When Mila awoke, dawn had already broken.

Phoebe sat by her bedside throughout the night. Sensing Mila stir, Phoebe gently caressed her forehead, her voice soft as she inquired, "Mila, you're awake. Are you feeling alright? Would you like some water?"

Mila's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, her face etched with sorrow, though her tears had ceased.

Phoebe continued, "Mila, Mr. Morrison came to see you last night. He was here again this morning, but he just left."

Mila turned her head slowly, her eyes glistening with moisture, her voice hoarse as she asked, "Did he say anything?"

said that Oliver has been

closed her eyes in

softly, "Mila, don't blame Mr. Morrison for not staying with you.

shook her head, absolving

distance himself, he had visited her twice since Loretta's

van carrying Lucas was ambushed yesterday afternoon. There was a fierce gunfight and explosion on

her fury palpable. "They're heartless beasts." Phoebe's expression darkened. "Mila, there's

turned to her, her gaze intense. "What is

Oliver called you. He asked you

the headboard and extended her hand toward Phoebe. After retrieving her phone, Phoebe scrolled through the

phone and activated the loudspeaker

Oliver's voice

the static, Mila's desire to dismantle Oliver surged fiercely. Suppressing her tears, Mila clenched her teeth, her words sharp as daggers. "Grandpa and Grandma raised you for decades, provided you with the

You're not even worthy of being called a

venting your spleen,