?Chapter 696:


    When he awoke, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled his senses. Debby rushed to his side, her eyes brimming with tears. “Brian, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”


    Briany there, his eyes open but silent.


    This silence, however, brought Debby some relief.


    She pleaded, “Please stop doing this to yourself. You’re mourning Rachel, right? Let me help you find happiness with someone new. Gather yourself. I couldn’t bear to lose you too.”


    Debby was visibly distressed. Her sorrow was intensified not just by Brian’s condition, but also by the recent death of a close family friend’s son in a car ident. The tragedy had left her shaken, amplifying her fear of losing Brian.


    Aron stood beside his wife, offering his perspective. “Brian, we can’t bring the dead back. We must continue living. We owe it to Rachel to live fully. Do you remember Mrs. Flores’ son? He died in a crash two days ago. The ident was terrible, and it has deeply affected your mother. His funeral is in three days. If you’re up to it, you should go.”


    Brian’s face remained impassive as he listened.


    Then, suddenly, a moment of rity seemed to strike him, and he looked up, eyes intent. “Dad, repeat that. When did the ident happen?”


    “Two days ago,” Aron replied.


    “And when is the burial scheduled?”


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    “In three days,” came the answer.


    Brian paused, his mind racing as he processed the information. Typically, in their city, funerals were held two days after someone’s death. The entire process, from the funeral service to cremation and burial, usually spanned five to six days. Sometimes, dys at the crematorium could add another day or two.


    So how was it possible for Rachel’s burial arrangements to be ready in just two to three days? The timeline was not only swift—it seemed almost deliberate, as though someone had rushed it to prevent him from uncovering something.


    A spark of suspicion ignited in Brian, filling him with a flicker of hope. “Ronald, get over here,” he said, dialing the number immediately.


    One weekter, Rachel’s eyes fluttered open slowly.


    She found herself in a beautiful vi. The room was peaceful, the gentle sounds of nature drifting through the window—a perfect setting for recovery. Yet, everything around her felt unfamiliar.


    As she pondered her situation, a doctor and a nurse entered the room. Their faces brightened upon seeing her awake.


    “Ms. Marsh, you’re awake! That’s wonderful! Mr. Vance has been anxiously waiting. Your recovery is such a relief to us all.”


    Rachel slowly regained consciousness, still feeling a bit disoriented.


    After a moment, she managed to speak, her throat dry. “Mr. Vance?”


    She tried to recall the name but came up nk. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t remember anyone named “Vance.”


    The doctor and nurse exchanged surprised nces. An had been checking on Rachel regrly, visiting her often and showing genuine concern. But now, she was saying she didn’t even recognize him.


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