?Chapter 868:


    Lizzie nodded so hard her tears spilled over.


    “I will! I promise. I’ll study hard—I won’t disappoint you.”


    Her university major happened to be in management, something An had likely nned for all along.


    Even so, as long as his health had allowed, he had never pressured her to take on responsibilities at thepany. He had wanted her to enjoy her youth, free from stress.


    “Rachel,” An said as he reached for her hand, then gently ced it over Lizzie’s. “She’s going to need your support in the future.”


    “Of course,” Rachel responded without hesitation.


    Initially, after leaving the hospital, Rachel had nned to head straight to thepany to hand over her work to Samira so she could dedicate all her time to An.


    But now, she realized that being by his side wasn’t enough. She needed to learn as much as she could so she could support Lizzie when the time came.


    “I have an idea,” An said suddenly. “While I’m still in good enough shape, Rachel, you can be my assistant—I’ll train you personally. And Lizzie, you can work under Alban. He’ll guide you through everything you need to know. What do you think?”


    The three of them exchanged nces before nodding in agreement. But they all had one condition—no overworking. Rest was non-negotiable. An wasn’t allowed to push himself a second more than necessary.


    An nodded with an easy smile.


    Maybe luck was on his side—over the next month, the tremors in his hand were infrequent and didn’t seem to worsen.


    Rachel and Lizzie threw themselves into their work, soaking up every bit of knowledge they could.


    asionally, An would give them the same tasks, turning their training into a friendlypetition to keep things engaging.


    Time moved swiftly, and before they knew it, another month had slipped away. The first real sign of decline came when An tried to peel an apple for Rachel. His fingers stiffened, and the knife slipped, slicing the tip of his finger.


    A drop of blood welled up and dripped onto the apple, dark red against the pale flesh—like wine spilled into a ss.


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    Rachel’s stomach twisted at the sight; something about it was unbearably cruel. She couldn’t bring herself to look.


    “Maybe I’ve just been overworking myselftely,” An said lightly, nudging the apple toward her, his right hand subtly trembling beneath the table.


    “You’ve been worrying too much about us,” Rachel replied, forcing a calm tone despite the cold dread pooling in her chest. “It’s noon—you should get some rest.”


    Whether this was a sign of his condition worsening or just a fluke, she didn’t dare dwell on it. All she could do was hope—pray—that fate would be kind to him.


    But fate, it seemed, had no intention of listening.


    An’s condition took a turn for the worse, progressing more rapidly than anyone had expected.


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