Seeing her like this, Ambrose's expression faltered, his guilt evident as his eyes avoided hers, instead landing on her bleeding feet.
"You're hurt?"
After all these years, Ambrose still couldn’t quite harden his heart against her.
He sighed softly, his words weighed down by regret. "Forget it. Let’s just say tonight was all nonsense... from being drunk. From now on—"
“There won’t be a ‘from now on,’” Hazel interrupted her voice barely a whisper.
"What?"
Ambrose sensed something had shifted within her, something he hadn’t expected.
But with everything that had unfolded that night, Ambrose’s mind was consumed by thoughts of Scarlett, leaving him with no energy left to focus on Hazel.
Just as he was about to speak, Scarlett’s voice, shaking with sobs, pierced through the air.
"Sister, do you really hate me that much? Forcing me to go abroad wasn’t enough; you want to drive me to my death, too? Fine, I’ll die, so I don’t burden Brother Ambrose anymore!"
Her words hit like a thunderclap, and before Hazel could respond, Scarlett ran toward the road.