Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 228: Her spirits were higher now, and her appetite had returned with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Ethan retreated to the study to finish some minor tasks, aiming to clear his schedule for Nyla's upcoming prenatal checkups. Although Leonard had been conducting her examinations at the villa, Ethan knew the hospital's equipment was far more comprehensive. Just as he was wrapping up his work, his phone buzzed. Keith's voice came through, unusually tense. "Ethan, I've found something. You'll want to see this." Ethan paused, his grip tightening on the phone.

"Alright," he replied curtly before hanging up. As he descended the stairs, he caught sight of Nyla on the sofa, her focus glued to her game. A small smile tugged at his lips. "I need to step out. Keith needs me," he said, his gaze lingering on the screen she was so intent on. It was a simple game with in-app purchases, and he watched as she made yet another transaction to unlock a new skin. "Alright," she mumbled distractedly, not even glancing up. Amused, Ethan transferred fifty thousand to her account as he walked out the door. At Night Charm, Keith was waiting, a glass of wine in hand.

His usual playful demeanor was absent, replaced by a sharp edge. His ear studs caught the dim light, making him appear both striking and ominous. When Ethan entered the room, Keith gestured at the documents spread across the table, his expression dark. Ethan scanned the papers, his features growing colder with every word he read. Keith downed the rest of his drink, frustration etched across his face. "This isn't just negligence-it's murder.

Your mother must have uncovered something, and that's why they pushed her to the brink." gⱯlnσνℓs․о opens doors to wonder Ethan's hands trembled as he read the damning evidence. The documents detailed how Zaylee had been injected with massive doses of drugs-none meant to treat her supposed heart condition. Instead, they were designed to erode her mental stability. The records were explicit. Fifty-nine injections in a single year. At least five injections a month, scheduled almost weekly. The last entry coincided with the month she fled with Ethan.

After that, there were no more records-only the car accident that had taken her life. A bitter laugh escaped him, low and broken. Had she run because she uncovered the truth? His mother wasn't insane. She hadn't tried to take him with her out of madness. She had been fighting to save herself-and him. The thin sheets of paper crumpled under Ethan's tightening grip. Keith stepped closer, sensing the storm brewing in his friend. . . .