?<strong>Chapter 853:</strong>


    For days, Dulce had no direct contact with Michael, relying only on updates from the police about the developments in the case. Meanwhile, Fiona had managed to sit up but spent her time staring nkly at her son’s belongings.


    “I was wrong to have you. If you hadn’t been born, you wouldn’t have suffered like this, right?” she whispered to herself, her words filling Dulce with sorrow just from hearing them.


    “Fiona, you should try to rest a bit,” Dulce suggested.


    Fiona, who had always been responsive to advice—much like she had been with Lacey’s past suggestions—now found herself heeding every word. Her nature was not to lead, but to follow.


    Had she followed Michael’s advice to divorce sooner, might her son have been spared? This troubling thought lingered as Fiona drifted off to sleep, aided by a sedative.


    Late into the night, Dulce entered to check on her. Upon opening the door, she discovered Michael standing beside Fiona’s bed. Only a singlemp was lit, casting a soft glow on the floor. Michael remained just outside the illuminated area, staring at the sleeping Fiona, deep in contemtion.


    It had been several days since Dulcest saw him, and his appearance was as worn as Fiona’s. The sight of Fiona in such a state likely brought back memories of Lacey for him.


    “Are you okay?” Dulce inquired, concerned.


    Michael turned his gaze toward her, managing a strained smile. “I’m managing.”


    “Let’s step outside. She’s finally asleep.”


    They moved to the corridor, where Michael spoke first. “Thank you.”


    “It’s merely my duty. As a witness, I must support the investigation.” Yet Dulce’smitment to Fiona extended well beyond mere obligation. She had remained by Fiona’s side day and night, assuming the role of her caregiver at the hospital.


    “I’ve arranged for a nurse to care for her now. Let me drive you home.” Dulce observed the fatigue in his eyes. “You haven’t had much sleep either, have you?”


    “I’m fine. Let’s head out.”


    Despite her concerns, Fiona couldn’t convince him otherwise and followed him to the parking lot.


    There, Michael’s car sat, both headlights shattered. He actually nned to drive her home in that condition.


    “What happened to your car?” she asked.


    “Just a minor ident.”


    Dulce was genuinely worried about his condition, which he seemed to underestimate. Taking a decisive breath, she said, “I’m not risking my life with you or this car.” She gestured back towards the hospital. “You need to go back and rest properly.”


    “And what about you?”


    “I’ll catch a taxi.”


    “No, it’s toote for that, and it’s not safe,” Michael retorted without missing a beat.


    “I’ll arrange for someone to pick me up; you don’t need to worry about it.”


    Michael remained silent for a moment, perhaps from exhaustion, and began to walk back toward the ward. However, he paused after a few steps.


    “Dulce, do you think I’m pretty useless?” he asked quietly.


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