Heartbreak Brings Mr. Right

But then, an ethereal glow pierced the gloom.

He looked up, his heart skipping a beat, envisioning his mother’s outstretched arms.

A tender voice reached him.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Hello, are you okay?”

He blinked against the light to see a girl standing before him, her presence like a soothing balm.

She was a peer in age, yet her simple beauty, framed by the morning’s golden hues, seemed otherworldly.

She was warmth incarnate, a seraph in the dim cellar.

Domenic’s consciousness was ebbing as he gazed emptily at the girl.

Her reassuring words, “I’ll find a way to get you out,” barely registered before she disappeared.

Left alone, despair closed in once more, but not for long.

The girl returned, extending a long stick towards him.

“Grab this, and I’ll hoist you out,” she promised.

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Clutching what felt like his only hope, Domenic held fast as the girl pulled with surprising strength, freeing him from his dark prison.

Once out, the sun’s embrace felt like a rebirth to Domenic.

Carole surveyed Domenic, who remained quiet.

The boy had an air of quiet handsomeness, but was not one for many words.

At the moment, however, he was a sight-dust clung to him, hair tousled, and a stale odor surrounded him.

His complexion was hidden beneath layers of filth.

Breathless and ashen, Domenic seemed on the verge of collapse.

Concern etched into Carole’s features as she urged, “Come on, we need to get you to your grandpa.

”

Domenic watched her lead the way, her hair catching the wind, her presence a beacon of hope.

Her scent-a hint of fruit in the breeze—brought a subtle comfort.

In his heart, he knew without Carole, he might have perished in the cellar’s chill, the chance for justice for his parents lost.

With that thought, Domenic’s eyes drifted shut, his mind affirming an eternal debt to Carole.

A pang of regret struck Domenic as he reflected on his harshness towards Carole during the engagement party.

The day’s events had stirred memories, softening his resolve.

From a young age, his mother instilled in him the virtue of gratitude.

She was a woman of grace and kindness, imparting lessons of warmth throughout his childhood.

Herbert, prone on the floor, caught the change in Domenic’s expression, eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope.

“Listen, you gave me your word,” he implored, voice laced with urgency.

“You’re aware, I have no love for the cutthroat nature of our line of work.

My delights are simple, fleeting pleasures with no ambition to challenge you.

Provide me with the means to lead a modest life, free of this strife, and I assure you, my loyalty is yours.

My presence in the Walsh Group will be nothing more than a shadow.

It was Herbert’s plea that snapped Domenic back to reality.

A slight smile played on his lips.

“Absolutely,” he responded.

With a deliberate motion, Domenic peeled off his gloves and accepted the share transfer documents from an aide.

Crouching before Herbert, he presented the papers.

“Sign this.

”

Herbert’s hesitation was brief.

He met Domenic’s gaze, seeking assurance.

To ease Herbert’s mind, Domenic quickly penned a check and gestured with it towards the anxious figure on the floor.

Herbert sealed the agreement with a decisive mark, his jaw set firm.

The check fluttered from Domenic’s hand, brushing Herbert’s face as the guards released their grip.

Herbert looked up to see Domenic’s retreating figure heading for the exit.