CHAPTER 224: NEW HOPE

By early afternoon, the Shephard estate had taken on a quieter, more formal atmosphere. The long oak-paneled hallway leading to the sitting room had been dusted, the chandelier above polished to a soft gleam. Everything was in place, but there was an undeniable edge of anticipation humming through the house.

Steve sat upright on the velvet couch, legs slightly trembling, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. Mara sat beside him, composed but alert, notebook in hand. Stanley leaned against the mantel, arms crossed, his eyes watchful. Stefan stood by the window, only half-present, eyes flicking occasionally to his phone as if he expected it to buzz again.

Mara rose and opened the door.

"Professor Arlen," she greeted warmly, stepping aside to let the tall, gray-haired man in. His wire-framed glasses caught the light, but his smile was gentle and sincere.

"Miss Shepherd. It’s good to finally meet you in person. And you must be Steve." He extended a hand, and Steve shook it carefully.

"Yes, sir," Steve said, voice low but respectful.

The professor took a seat across from them, setting his briefcase beside him. "You have a remarkable family, Steve. They’ve told me a great deal about your case—and your strength."

Steve glanced sideways at Mara, who gave him an encouraging nod.

"I’ve been reviewing the records," the professor continued, opening his case and pulling out a thin file. "You were diagnosed months ago. Your current treatment has stabilized some symptoms, but the degeneration continues."

Steve nodded, jaw tight. "Yeah. I can feel it."

The professor looked at him for a long moment. "What we’re proposing is a different kind of treatment. Experimental, yes. But based on promising research in neural regeneration and immune therapy. We’re not just trying to slow the disease—we’re aiming to reverse some of the damage."

Stanley straightened slightly. Stefan finally turned from the window.

Mara leaned forward. "And what’s the risk?"

Professor Arlen didn’t flinch. "There’s always risk. But we’ll be running the treatment in stages. Closely monitored. If Steve consents, we’ll begin with a non-invasive trial—tracking how his body reacts to the therapy. If successful, we move to the cellular infusions."

Steve swallowed hard. "Will it hurt?"

The professor gave a small, honest smile. "Not in the way you’re thinking. But it will be hard. Your body may respond in ways we can’t predict."

Mara reached over and took Steve’s hand gently. "You don’t have to decide today," she whispered.

But Steve looked up. Not at the professor—at Stefan.

Stefan hadn’t said a word the entire time. His shoulders were tense, his eyes distant.

"Stefan," Steve said, voice barely above a whisper, "do you think I should do it?"

Stefan blinked, pulled from whatever memory—or guilt—had wrapped itself around him. He met his brother’s gaze.

For a moment, the pain of the night before—Aveline’s eyes, the hollow sound of her silence—flashed through him. But it was nothing compared to what he saw in Steve’s face now.

Fear. Hope. Trust.

Stefan stepped forward, kneeling slightly so he could be eye level with his eldest brother.

"I think," he said slowly, "if there’s a chance you can get better... even a small one... then you take it. And I’ll be there. Through all of it." Steve’s eyes welled, but he nodded. "Then I want to do it."

Professor Arlen gave a small nod of approval, making notes. Mara exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath for hours. The decision had been made.

But as Stefan stood again, his phone buzzed softly in his pocket.

Aveline. Again. He didn’t look. Not yet.

—

The cell door opened with its usual groan, followed by the shuffle of heavy boots.

Maria-Isabel didn’t move.

She was curled on the lower bunk, a thin blanket draped over her legs, her back to the door. Her hands were folded beneath her cheek. Her eyes were open, but dull, like someone who had cried until they were emptied out.

"Lewis," the guard called gently, softer than usual. "You have a visitor."

She didn’t respond.

Ethan stepped in, flanked by Officer April. He stopped a few feet from the bunk, eyes settling on the frail figure that looked nothing like the Maria he remembered—the one with fire in her voice and too much pride to ask for help.

"Maria," he said softly.

She stirred but didn’t face him. "Did you come to make me sign something again?"

"No. I came to tell you the trial date’s been moved."

That made her turn.

Her brows furrowed faintly as she pushed herself up, leaning her back against the cold wall. "Moved?"

Ethan nodded. "It’s been set for three days from now."

She blinked, then let out a soft, bitter laugh.

"Three days..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "That’s how long it takes to be judged for surviving."

"That’s not what this is."

"Yes, it is." Her voice cracked. "You’re rushing me to stand before strangers and justify why I’m still breathing. Why didn’t I just let Daniel kill me? Why I tried to protect my child even if it meant burying my soul."

Ethan stepped closer, crouching by the bunk. His expression was steady, but there was grief in his eyes.

"I know you’re tired," he said. "I know every breath feels like a battle. But your daughter still thinks this is temporary. And in three days, if we do this right, it can be."

Maria looked at him, tears rising without permission.

"I don’t have the strength to stand in court, Ethan."

"Then let me carry it for you. Let Rafa and I build the case. All you need to do is speak your truth."

She shook her head, wiping at her face as the tears spilled.

"I’m not as strong as people think. I don’t want to be brave. I just want... I just want my daughter not to hate me one day."

"She won’t," Ethan said firmly. "Not when she grows up and learns the truth."

A long pause passed between them. Then Maria took a shaky breath and whispered, "Three days."

"Yes."

"I’ll do it. But promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"If I don’t make it to the end, don’t let them put her in an opharnage. Let her know I loved her... more than my own life. And let Mara know it’s only her I trust,"

Ethan swallowed hard.

"I promise." Maria closed her eyes, nodding faintly. "Then let’s get it over with."