Chapter 62

• Mr. Sydney returned quietly from the hospital, but instead of heading to the main quarters, he asked the driver to take him to the private quarters in a quieter part of the estate. It was a part of the house rarely used—silent, cold, and empty. But today, he needed silence. He needed space. The news from the hospital was too much to handle.
• As the car stopped, he slowly stepped out. His usual strong presence had faded. His face was no longer stern but tired, worn out, and filled with worry. His driver opened the door, but Mr. Sydney waved him off with a tired hand. "I'll manage," he muttered, carrying his own bag as he entered the quiet room alone.
• Once inside, he dropped his leather bag on the sofa, removed his shoes one after the other, then took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He slowly sank into the armchair near the window, leaned back, and let out a long, heavy sigh. The ticking clock was the only sound in the room. His mind raced with thoughts, memories, and questions. The doctor's words played in his head like a broken record.