After dinner, Titus Zane went back to his own room.
Not wanting to be the annoying third wheel in the living room.
Titus Zane didn’t know if Nathan Moore did it intentionally or out of habit, while others usually work in their study at home, this man always sits on the couch in the living room with his laptop.
And his sister, Olivia Zane, would affectionately snuggle up to his shoulder, occasionally feeding him a piece of fruit.
Titus Zane admitted, it wasn’t just because he didn’t want to be a third wheel that he didn’t want to see such scenes.
More so, such scenes would trigger his memories, bringing back the beautiful times in Paris.
Each time Logan Ray was working, he would also stay by his side, equally dependent...
The room furthest down the corridor on the top floor of the villa.
Titus Zane lay on his side on the bed, propping his head with his hands, staring blankly ahead.
He remembered the day his sister had her grand wedding, intending to visit the hospital after the guests had left; however, their mother said that it was unlucky for the bridal room to be empty on the first day of marriage.
So he had to stay in the villa, which was supposed to be his sister’s bridal home, guarding it and enduring the agony of guilt and waiting.
It was already dark outside, and the maids in the villa had returned to their own rooms to rest, but he was still waiting in the hall, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows towards the front gate of the villa.
There were lights flickering, coming closer and closer to the villa—it was a sedan approaching.
Titus Zane got up excitedly, gripping the armrest of the couch tightly with one hand.
The villa’s door was pushed open forcefully, and a man in a white groom’s suit appeared at the door.
The white groom’s suit was no longer neat, crumpled beyond recognition.
There were obvious blood stains on the lapels and trousers, and the red bow tie he had worn in the morning was gone.
Titus Zane, who was about to inquire about his sister’s condition, was shocked by the cold aura emanating from the man, gripping the armrest of the couch, standing still on the spot, the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.
Nathan Moore paused for a moment then strode towards Titus Zane, who had not even reacted yet, and had already grabbed his arm and dragged him upstairs.
No matter how much he struggled and flapped, Nathan Moore remained silent until he dragged him into the room, the man engulfed in resentment finally spoke.
Throwing him harshly onto the bed, Nathan Moore said,
"Olivia hasn’t woken up for a day, and you are not allowed to leave until she does."
After saying that, he slammed the door shut. When Titus Zane got up from the bed and rushed to the door, it was already locked from the outside, and no matter how much he banged and shouted, "Open the door," it was no use.
From that day on, Titus Zane was confined, and it’s somewhat funny to say, in this era of sound legal systems, that he was indeed confined...
It was initially forced, but unexpectedly, in the end, it became his "willing" choice.
Memories are always mysteriously bitter.
Titus Zane turned over and continued to stare blankly ahead.
He couldn’t understand, on the day of his sister Olivia Zane’s grand wedding, at the corner of the staircase at home, he had grabbed Olivia’s arm, and when Olivia screamed, he clearly saw Olivia holding onto the handrail, how could she have fallen?
To say it was intentional? Titus Zane almost couldn’t believe it.
Could Olivia have really risked her own well-being just to frame him?
And with that fall, her spine was broken, and she would have to sit in a wheelchair for the rest of her life... If that was really the case, then the price of this frame-up was indeed hefty.
This incident had always been a mystery in Titus Zane’s heart.