Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

The carved wooden trinket in his hands was taken by someone, but not by one of Christ's people.

The others in the room left without notice, leaving only Summer by his bedside.

Christ couldn't recall when Summer had arrived.

He took the carved wooden trinket from Christ's hand, a slight curve touched Summer's lips.

"Farewell, Master."

Christ's eyes bulged, a feeble attempt to rise overtaking him. Yet, his body was too weak; he could only

discern that it was Summer’s voice.

This was the little disciple he and the Grand Elder had taken in together. In their years of searching for

Cynthia, they had neglected his presence.

Summer extended a finger, pressed the switch to pop out the insect, pressed it back in, and toggled the

switch again.

"Master, Christ, I'm here to see you off on your final journey."

Something in Summer's tone set off alarm bells in Christ's head. He tried to turn, but even that small

movement was beyond him.

Summer slowly bent down and whispered in Christ’s ear, "Did you see the video? Quite a pity about

Sis, huh?"

Christ's eyes widened instantly, gasping in disbelief, obviously wanting to do something.

But he was powerless.

Summer turned Christ's head towards him, his voice still soft. Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

"You can't blame me. When you and the Grand Elder wanted me to marry her, I took her as my wife

from that moment on."

Christ's breathing grew more labored, a rising urge to slap Summer, but he couldn't move a finger due

to the stroke.

Summer glanced at the wooden toy in his hand, a smirk playing on his lips.

"It's her fault for not loving me. She was mine to begin with."

Christ coughed up blood once more, slipping into unconsciousness.

However, his departure was not immediate. Instead, he lingered on, a mere shell of life, utterly

dependent on others.

Summer appointed two people to look after him.

"Take good care of him."

Christ's men were outside. Now that he was vegetative, they all had to serve Summer.

He had assumed Christ's authority, as he was the only disciple left besides Cynthia.

Stepping out of the room, Summer toyed with the wooden trinket's switch until he reached a trash can.

He discarded it without hesitation, a scorn on his face.

With the two old fools out of the way, BK was now his and Philip's domain.

Thinking of Cynthia still locked in that basement, he felt a bit of regret. He had hoped to keep her by his

side.

As Summer got into his car, he instructed his companion.

"Don't let him die. I want him as a witness at the wedding with Cynthia."

"Of course, Summer."

Meanwhile, in the Forbidden Island's basement.

The engineering team continued their investigation, but the woman sitting on the bed spoke up.

"Let me go."

She lifted her head, her gaze piercing into the unknown.

Her eyes veiled by a layer of white gauze, making her appear incredibly fragile.

She thought of her daughter, with an aching longing. Reąd at Drąmаոоvеls.com

The engineering team hadn't expected her to speak; had someone talked to her at this moment?

The team members exchanged glances, feeling somewhat helpless.

They didn't know that this woman, seemingly lucid, had long since lost her grip on sanity.