CHAPTER 155: RYAN AND DRAKE ENCOUNTER

Sarah’s sharp retort instantly made Drake flush crimson with rage.

His fingers dug into her arm like iron clamps as he dragged her toward the hospital room door without explanation.

"What do you think you’re doing?

Let her go!"

Ryan, who had remained silent until now, rose from the sofa in one swift motion.

He seized Sarah’s other arm, locking eyes with Drake in a tense standoff.

The air between them crackled with hostility.

Drake, who had long despised him, shoved Ryan aside and yanked Sarah toward the exit.

But Ryan wasn’t backing down.

He lunged forward, his fist connecting with Drake face in a sharp crack.

The two men immediately grappled, throwing punches in a furious tangle.

Sarah stood frozen, watching the two men brawl over her.

Tears spilled down her cheeks in an instant.

She desperately tugged at Ryan’s sleeve while

shouting at Drake, "What is wrong with you?

Are you trying to tear my family apart?

Is that what you want?

Drake, grow up!

My mother is lying in there—can’t you even let her rest in peace?"

Her words sliced through Drake like a blade.

He froze mid-motion, allowing Ryan to land several more blows before staggering back, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Seeing this, Sarah’s heart twisted with guilt.

She grabbed Ryan’s arm, tears streaming down her face like scattered pearls.

At the sight of the woman he loved in such distress, Ryan finally lowered his fists.

His eyes burned with fury as he glared at Drake, a silent warning flashing in his gaze.

Drake wasn’t one to take a beating lightly, especially not in front of the woman he adored.

But for now, he had no choice but to swallow his pride.

"Sarah," he said, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand before fixing Ryan with an icy stare.

"I need to talk to you.

Tell him to leave."

Two seconds passed in tense silence before Sarah finally relented.

During her time with Drake, she had always been the one to compromise.

Whenever he flew into a temper, she would yield—even now, after all these years.

A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she turned to Ryan, gently wiping the trace of blood from his mouth.

"Go to the nurse’s station and get that wound treated," she said softly.

"Don’t worry, with so many people around, he wouldn’t dare do anything to me."

Since Sarah had spoken, he had no choice but to comply.

Before leaving, he shot Drake a sharp, warning glare, then released her hand and walked toward the hallway.

The moment Ryan was out of sight, Drake slammed Sarah against the white wall, his grip like iron around her arms.

His phoenix eyes burned into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

"Drake, what the hell do you want?"

Her pale face flushed crimson with fury.

She bit her lip hard, glaring at him through reddened eyes, her wrists pinned helplessly in his grasp.

Then, a sudden chill at her neck—before sharp teeth sank into the delicate skin beneath her jaw and earlobe.

The shock sent a violent tremor through her already tense body.

His hands were like steel vices, leaving her no choice but to kick at his shins with her stiletto heels.

But no matter how hard she struggled, he remained unmoved, letting her vent her rage.

In desperation, she bit down on his lower lip—already split and bleeding from Ryan’s earlier punch—opening a fresh wound.

Only when the metallic tang of blood flooded her senses, choking her into tears, did he finally loosen his grip.

"Sarah, listen to me," he said hoarsely.

"I had no idea about the conflict between your family and that of Samantha’s.

I’ll go to her right now and get to the bottom of this.

I swear, I won’t let you suffer any injustice."

A hollow laugh escaped her lips.

She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, her mouth still tinged with the coppery sweetness of blood.

But her eyes—cold, resolute, brimming with disdain—told a different story.

The sight tore at Drake’s heart like a physical wound.

"You’re chasing after your current girlfriend because of an ex—don’t you realize how childish and ridiculous that is?

The business dealings between my family and Samantha’s families—I’m sure you’re clueless about them.

But do me a favor and take a good look at the people around you.

I used to think you were just immature, but now I genuinely pity you."

Sarah laughed, her beautiful face twisted with bitterness, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

The laughter soon dissolved into tears, droplets pattering onto her sleeves.

She inhaled sharply, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand before wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth.

Straightening her posture, she met his gaze head-on.

"What right do you have to lecture me now?

Worry about the women in your own life first!

That woman you love isn’t half as perfect as you think.

You’d better wake up."

Ryan hadn’t gone to the nurse’s station.

Instead, he lingered in the hallway’s shadow, leaning against the wall, watching silently as Drake kissed Sarah’s chin.

His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, but for her sake, he forced himself to stay hidden, emotions churning in his eyes.

Only after Sarah strode back into the ICU and Drake stormed off did Ryan finally step forward to have his wounds dressed.

Then, quietly, he returned to the ward.

"How is he?"

The moment Sarah reentered the room, Lucas’s cold voice cut through the air.

"What’s it to him?

He’s off to find his precious fiancée."

"And you? Are you okay?" Lucas sighed.

These two, once so close, had let pride drive them apart.

The waste of it all weighed on him.

Gently, he patted Sarah’s arm, a silent reassurance to let it go.

When Beauty woke in the late afternoon, the throbbing at her temple made even shifting in bed unbearable.

Fingers brushing the wound, she scanned the room—no sign of Lucas.

I thought he had gone to the office.

Staring at my pale, bloodless reflection in the mirror, then at the white gauze wrapped around my temple, I let out a long sigh.

Lucas didn’t return until late that evening.

The doctor had specially prepared a nutritious meal for me, but I had no appetite.

I only managed a few sips of bone broth before drifting back into a heavy sleep.

A sudden weight on the bed roused me.

Slowly opening my eyes, I saw Lucas’s flushed face hovering close.

The strong scent of alcohol hit me, making me wrinkle my nose.

"Where were you?

Why are you so drunk?"

"I was with Drake.

He wasn’t in the best mood."

His answer was straightforward.

His fingers brushed lightly over the wound on my forehead, his expression softening.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured.

"I heard you barely ate tonight, so I made you some spaghetti.

Try them."

"You... made them yourself?"

In all the time I’d lived in this villa, I’d never seen Lucas step into the kitchen.

My eyes widened in disbelief.

"First time cooking," he admitted with a faint smile.

"Had some guidance from the chef.

I sneaked a taste—not bad at all.

Thought you might like it."

As he spoke, he reached for the bowl of spaghetti on the nightstand.

Carefully picking up some boiled eggs, he blew on it to cool it before bringing it to my lips.