Chapter 3 It's Time To Begin Funeral Arrangements

Casting a restless glance out the window, Rylan searched the sidewalk, his eyes sharpening when he spotted a familiar figure. "Mr. Evans, your wife is here."

Upon hearing that, Derek lifted his head. Peering through the tinted glass, he caught sight of Allison stepping gracefully out of a taxi.

She wore a striking red dress that clung to her body like a second skin, stopping daringly above the knee.

The skirt, gathered into delicate rose-shaped folds, shifted and fluttered with every move she made.

A slender waist and a cascade of long, dark hair down her back gave her an effortless allure, each step turning the sidewalk into her personal runway.

Unable to help himself, Rylan let the words slip out, awestruck. "She looks like she just walked out of a dream."

Derek's sharp glare sliced through the space between them, warning him into silence before he turned his eyes back to Allison. Dressed like that, who was she planning to charm the moment she was free of him?

Before he could dwell any longer, his phone vibrated against the seat.

One swipe, and after a few clipped words from the other end, Derek's face hardened. A storm was already building behind his steady gaze.

"We are going to my grandparents'," he said.

Rylan's eyes widened. "What about Mrs. Evans?"

"She should come along as well."

Allison had already spotted the long Lincoln parked at the curb. Did he expect her to invite him out herself?

Approaching the car, she was about to tap on the window when the back door suddenly opened and a strong arm pulled her inside.

Immediately, the vehicle took off, its engine growling loudly.

The rapid acceleration pushed Allison forward, causing her to lose her footing and fall right into Derek's lap.

Her hand landed on something hard, and it moved beneath her touch before she could understand what it was.

Her cheeks turned red, and she hastily moved back, hitting her head hard against the ceiling. She grimaced, holding her head, as her normally graceful demeanor fell apart.

"I believed we were here to settle our divorce," she said, her voice strained with discomfort. "So, where are we actually headed?"

Rylan perked up in the front seat. Could Derek be having second thoughts? He knew it-Derek must have developed feelings for his wife after their years together.

Yet, Derek seemed unfazed by the earlier incident. With a brooding expression, he said, "You'll see when we arrive."

He reached into his jacket, extracted a mint, unwrapped it with deliberate slowness, and placed it in his mouth, pressing it to the roof of his mouth as if to quell his inner turmoil.

Allison, realizing he wouldn't offer more, kept silent, bowed her head, and began typing on her phone.

The journey lasted over an hour before they finally reached the estate.

The property stretched out over vast acres, marrying traditional architecture with sophisticated landscaping that included bridges, streams, gazebos, and complex paths.

Just after sending a text, Allison looked up and was struck by the familiar scenery outside.

"Why are you taking me here?" she inquired.

On this day, their third anniversary, it was customary for the Evans family to unite for a celebratory dinner.

Despite this, Derek had adamantly instructed her not to attend just the night before. Given that their divorce was nearing its conclusion, his decision to bring her here puzzled her.

Upon arrival at a lakeside villa, Derek promptly exited the Lincoln, took Allison's wrist firmly in hand, and led her past the concerned butler, heading straight to the upper floor.

Gasping for air, the butler hurried after them, explaining in haste, "Mr. Evans, your grandmother woke up this morning, only to collapse shortly after. She's been in a coma then. Thankfully, your grandfather discovered in time. Dr. Jackson is currently attending to her."

His voice cracked as he continued, fraught with worry, "This is the second time she has collapsed this way, exhibiting bleeding from her nose and mouth. According to Dr. Jackson, her organs are now failing. It's very troubling..."

The majority of the Evans family were already waiting outside the master bedroom on the second floor.

Glenn and his wife, Jane Evans, had three sons. Their first, Eric Evans, was deeply involved in military duties and rarely left his base.

Michael Evans, Derek's father and the middle son, had previously managed senior duties at Evans Group but was now enjoying his retirement.

The youngest, Roger Evans, the mayor of Oregend, was absent due to business obligations.

As Derek stepped into view, his stepmother, Pamela Evans, scowled and mocked, "There are those who show no compassion. They value money over kin and fail to appear even in moments of life or death."

Catching sight of Allison just behind Derek, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Well, look who's here. Not divorced yet, and already acting like a stranger."

Her figure was draped in a silk dress, her arms crossed defiantly, and although her makeup was flawless, it did little to soften the hard lines of resentment on her face.

Turning to Derek with a weary sigh, Michael said, "Derek, your grandmother cherished you deeply. Had you arrived any later, you might have missed your chance to see her one last time. And all this empire building-what's it really for? Maybe it's time to let go of some of that burden."

Derek, tired of the constant squabbling, stepped closer to Glenn and quietly inquired, "How is she?"

The old man, his features drawn with fatigue and his white hair and beard more pronounced in his grief, seemed to shrink before the closed bedroom door, his hands quivering ever so slightly.

"Dr. Jackson isn't optimistic." Glenn seized Derek's wrist with a strength that belied his frail appearance and struggled to speak. "Derek, we're losing Jane."

The firm grasp of the old man conveyed a grave reality. Derek's expression hardened, his voice gritty as he responded, "No. Grandma is a fighter. She won't give up easily."

Allison greeted the people gathered near the door before positioning herself just behind Derek. She stood there, her hands tightly intertwined, gazing worriedly at the bedroom door.

Jane, like Glenn, had always shown her sincere warmth.

Derek would only involve her in family matters-despite their impending divorce-under dire circumstances.

A short while later, the door slowly opened and the doctor, Simon Jackson, emerged.

"It was a critical situation. We've attempted all possible interventions, but... I'm sorry. It's time to begin funeral arrangements."