Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase Novel

Chapter 380: The guests, sensing the weight of the moment, grew restless. Was this woman truly MCN's chief designer? Even so, how could she deserve such respect from someone like Hurst? And what about her supposed dirty record? A nervous energy rippled through the room. Some guests shifted uncomfortably, wondering if their earlier snide remarks might somehow reach Hurst's ears - and what consequences that might bring. Rosanna stood frozen in place, forcing a smile so tight that her cheeks ached. Maia had somehow gotten close to Hurst. She thought bitterly, her stomach twisting with jealousy.

How could that nobody suddenly stand so high above her? At the far end of the hall, a procession emerged. Bodyguards in sharp black suits flanked a middle-aged man exuding an air of authority, his hands firmly gripping the handles of a wheelchair. The entire atmosphere shifted - becoming thick with reverence. Kolton Cooper, the current head of the Cooper family, had arrived. And seated in the wheelchair was none other than Laurence Cooper, the former patriarch himself. Gasps and murmurs broke out across the room. "Even Mr.

Laurence Cooper is here!" "I thought he had not shown himself in public for years!" "This proves how important tonight's event really is - both generations of the Cooper family present!" Yet as the crowd got a closer look at the frail old man in the wheelchair, the initial excitement dulled into sorrow. Laurence's hair was snowy white, his once-proud face hollow and slack, his eyes blank and distant. He seemed little more than a ghost of the titan he had once been.

g∆ν., - The man who had once ruled the business world with an iron will was now a frail shadow, a fragile shell trapped between life and death. It was truly heartbreaking to witness. Soft sighs whispered through the crowd like a mournful breeze. "It looks like Mr. Laurence Cooper's health has not improved at all," someone murmured. "What a tragedy. He used to be such a legend." Chris, standing stiffly among the throng, felt a hollow pang in his chest. Without hesitation, he pushed forward, cutting through the crowd until he reached the wheelchair.

Dropping to one knee, Chris took his grandfather's frail, weathered hand into his own. His voice, low and thick with emotion, trembled slightly. "Grandpa, I am here," he said. Chris's brow knit tightly. Laurence's condition was worse - far worse - than the last time he had visited. His grandfather, once so formidable, now seemed barely tethered to this world. At the sound of Chris's voice, Laurence shivered faintly. A flicker of light stirred in his dull eyes - small, but unmistakable. Slowly, with a herculean effort, Laurence's trembling hand closed around Chris's fingers.

His mouth opened, desperate to form words, but only broken, incoherent sounds spilled out. Chris's heart clenched painfully. How could it have gotten this bad? Last time, Grandpa could still speak, even if only in broken sentences. Tightening his grip on the frail hand, Chris rose to his feet, his dark eyes burning with barely contained fury. Without a word, his gaze cut sharply upward, locking onto Kolton. Kolton's face remained an impenetrable mask, his gaze steady as an unyielding storm. His voice was like the chill of winter, detached and unfeeling.

"Chris, your grandfather is already aware that you are speaking to him." . . .