Chapter 230

Noise in the backyard drew the caregivers' attention,making them think an intruder was lurking nearby.The currently careless security system at the villa meant it wasn't impossible for someone to slip inside.

The caregivers grabbed wvhatever objects they could find, brooms, vases, even a shoehorn, ready to confront whoever had broken in. Yet, the moment they glimpsed the silhouette of the intruder,all their weapons dropped from their hands in shock.

One caretaker stammered out, "M-Mrs. Jones?"

All the caregivers were dumbfounded. Who would have guessed the woman everyone had been searching for was actually in the villa? But only hours earlier, they'd watched her being taken away in a car.

Hearing footsteps, Hannah turned and held out a card to a nearby caretaker. "Please give this to the driver out front," she instructed with quiet authority.

In a daze, the caretaker took the card and wandered outside to deliver it.

Hannah, meanwhile, wandered into another room,her movements unhurried and deliberate. The other caregivers exchanged confused glances. Had her vision returned?

Snapping out of her daze, one caretaker whispered to her colleagues, "Watch over Mrs. Jones. I'll call the butler," then hurried off to place the call.

Wherever Hannah went, a trail of caregivers followed.

The sprawling villa seemed both familiar and foreign to Hannah. Every hallway was padded for safety, and Marie's medical setup was far more high-tech than she had imagined. Inside Marie's office, stacks of surgical notes and a thick compatibility report caught her eye.

A step into the sunroom revealed a sanctuary made of glass, brimming with flowersof every kind. In the garden, there was a sparkling fountain, a new addition, the caregivers explained, commissioned by Vincent just for her.

Curiosity led Hannah upstairs to the villa's top floor, a place she'd never explored, which the caregivers called Vincent's private retreat. She found a wall of surveillance screens.

A closer look at his desk revealed a surgical consent form, its date even older than her own. Nearby, a property deed lay waiting, confirming that he had already signed the entire villa over to her.

Rows of Braille books were stacked beside the papers, each one made for the visually impaired.

Only then did understanding dawn on Hannah-the meaning behind Vincent's words that day finally clicked into place. Those Braille books indeed weren't bought for her-they were for him. He had arranged everything. He had brought her to the cemetery and told her, "There won't be another chance." That kiss, sudden and unexplained,had left her stunned, especially when he urged her to live thebest life she could.

Only now did she realize why his parting words felt so irrevocable, like the closing of a