Chapter 583

Chapter 583:

“I despise them,” Fernanda said, her voice sharp and her eyes blazing. “Robert, Michelle—they make my stomach churn. I’ll make them suffer. They must pay for what they did to my mother and everything I endured.”

Stepping closer, Cristian wrapped his arms around Fernanda, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Her head rested against his chest, and he gently laid his chin on her hair.

“All right,” he murmured, his voice low. “We’ll make them pay.”

Fernanda nestled closer, her eyelids fluttering closed as his embrace enveloped her in warmth. His steady heartbeat grounded her, and in that moment it felt as if the weight of the world could vanish if she stayed close enough to him. He offered the peace and solace she so desperately needed.

“Please don’t cry,” Cristian whispered softly. “If Hiram were here, he wouldn’t want to see you like this. He’d want you to find happiness.”

Cristian, too, bore the burden of a painful past. He understood that dredging up those wounds was like reopening scars that never fully healed. By sharing her story, Fernanda had shown she trusted him enough to let him in, but he wished she didn’t have to carry the weight of those memories. He couldn’t bear to see her face that pain again.

He held her close, offering quiet comfort—his presence a shield against the world.

In many ways, they were the same—both haunted by pasts they’d rather forget. Yet neither was willing to be defined by what had come before. They refused to accept the roles fate had cast for them.

They shared an unyielding pride and a fierce determination to live beyond the shadows of their histories. Neither would let the world dictate their worth. They were driven to prove their strength and to show their doubters how wrong they were.

They would not bow to destiny; they chose instead to carve their own paths. Adversity had never broken them—it only fueled their resolve, pushing them to become more resilient with each challenge.

After a while, Fernanda stood, finally regaining her composure. With tenderness, she wiped Hiram’s tombstone. Before departing, both Cristian and Fernanda bowed in solemn respect.

“Hiram, I promise I’ll come to see you often,” Fernanda whispered, her voice filled with quiet reverence. “I truly will.”

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If it hadn’t been for Hiram’s wish to rest in Zhota, she would have moved his grave to Esaham just so she could visit every week.

By the time they left the cemetery, the day had already reached its peak.

“Are you hungry?” Cristian asked, breaking the silence. “How about we grab a bite to eat?”

“I know just the place,” Fernanda replied, her voice firm with certainty.

“All right,” Cristian said with a nod, following her directions as he drove toward the spot she’d mentioned.

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