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

Chapter 387: Despite the chaos, Ethan distinguished a crucial admission. "That fool has no idea someone else is also plotting against him." Ethan had pulled back the curtain of deceit, revealing a dark tapestry woven with betrayal. The harsh truth was undeniable-his mother's untimely demise bore the fingerprints of his father's treachery, and Ryland had been an accomplice. As for other potential conspirators, Ethan strongly suspected their identities. The reins of control rested firmly in his hands.

Once he unearthed the full story of that fateful time, he vowed to deliver poetic justice, ensuring that each one of them faced the abyss they had carved. Meanwhile, Nyla once again found herself trapped, her world reduced to the confines of the villa. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice frosty as she stood at the door, glaring at a guard. "Mr. Brooks has ordered that you are not to leave the premises for the time being," the guard replied flatly, his expression as impassive as a stone gargoyle. Frustration simmered within Nyla, threatening to boil over.

What new game was Ethan playing now? Fuming, she grabbed her phone and called him directly. Ethan, in the middle of a high-stakes meeting, answered the call with his usual composure. "What now, Ethan? Are you resorting to locking me up like a prisoner again?" Nyla asked, slumping onto the sofa. She gripped an apple in her hand as if it were the source of all her woes. "Just stay home and take it easy," Ethan replied coolly, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the desk. His calm demeanor silenced the room, leaving the presenter too intimidated to continue.

Nyla's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Is this the extent of your power, Ethan?" she spat before ending the call with a sharp click and tossing her phone onto the sofa. gⱯlnσνs․com delivers what you seek Resigned to her captivity, she stormed upstairs, each step echoing her frustration. From a distance, Hana observed the scene with a sigh. Once again, Nyla's life resembled a bird in a gilded cage, its beauty marred by its lack of freedom. The days passed monotonously for Nyla, spent mostly in the nursery.

Every time she left the room, her resolve was reinforced-she could never forgive Ethan. "Mrs. Brooks, is the child still on your mind?" Hana inquired one day, carrying a tray of freshly baked treats as she entered the room. Nyla, lost in thought, sat cross-legged on the carpet. Startled, Nyla looked up and nodded faintly. "Yes, but I'm coming to terms with reality." Hana set the tray down and joined her on the floor. "Do you despise Mr. Brooks? Do you think he's to blame for the baby's death?" . . .