?<strong>Chapter 423:</strong>


    Desperation twisted inside Michael. He cupped her face gently, his terrified eyes searching hers for some sign that she could still feel him.


    The steady rhythm mocked him. Each beat, each sound, was a cruel reminder of time slipping away. “Lacey!”


    Tears streamed down Michael’s face as he made the most defiant decision of his life. He reached up, pulled off her oxygen mask, and pressed his lips to hers in a desperate kiss.


    If there was any chance that her soul lingered at the threshold, he wanted her to know that he loved her.


    But her lips did not respond.


    Her warmth was already fading, slipping away like thest light of a sunset giving way to darkness.


    Michael’s hands fell away from her face, the cold reality settling in. There was no denying it now—Lacey was gone.


    Adrian, who had been frantically searching for Lacey’s room, froze when he heard Michael’s heart-wrenching cry.


    The doctor rushed in and nced at the monitor, his face clouded with regret. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do.”


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    Michael copsed to his knees, clutching Lacey’s lifeless hand in his own. The two wedding rings on their fingers caught the light, glinting like stars that had lost their sky. Michael couldn’t summon the courage to face the truth.


    Before the funeral, he drowned his pain in alcohol, numbing himself to the world. Adrian, overwhelmed with handling everything, couldn’t find a moment to check on him.


    And after the funeral, nothing changed. Michael’s nights were filled with empty bottles and a hollow ache that only grew stronger. He fell asleep each night clutching Lacey’s urn.


    Someone suggested Adrian talk to Michael, but Adrian was beyond exhausted himself. The day after Lacey’s funeral, he shut himself away in his hotel room and slept for a whole day and night.


    A knock on the door finally pulled him from his fitful sleep. He groaned, assuming it was just room service, and ignored it.


    When his phone buzzed beside him, he picked it up with a sigh, seeing Joelle’s name sh across the screen.


    “Aren’t you at the hotel?” she asked.


    “1 am.”


    “Open the door.”


    Adrian sat up quickly, not even bothering to grab a shirt in his rush. He nearly tripped over himself in his haste to reach the door.


    When he flung the door open, there she was.


    “What are you doing here?” He pulled her close, his joy raw and genuine.


    Joelle, visibly tired from her long journey, smiled at the sight of his happiness, which made it all worthwhile.


    “I was worried about you. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard without taking a break.”


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