Reborn Heiress: Taking Back What Is Rightfully Hers!
Chapter 223: Final Words

Chapter 223: Final Words

Eric’s pale face managed a faint smile, though the life in his eyes was quickly fading. His gaze lingered on Ella, filled with deep affection and reluctance—his time with her had been so wonderful, and he truly didn’t want to leave.

Ella, trembling, shook her head fiercely. "No! If anything happens to you, I won’t go on living either! Eric, you better pull yourself together!"

Eric tried to speak, but the effort was overwhelming. Still, there were things he needed to say, or he’d regret it forever.

"Mark... if I don’t make it... give all my shares to Ella..."

Mark, tears streaming down his face, nodded. "I know what to do, young master."

Ella’s expression suddenly hardened with fierce determination. "Eric! Shut up! If you dare leave me, I swear, I’ll go find a thousand young men to sleep with just to spite you. I’ll make sure you suffer, even in heaven!"

Eric laughed, his hand slowly losing strength, finally slipping from hers, no longer able to hold on. His beautiful yet mischievous eyes gently closed. Ella felt as though her heart had been ripped apart, and she clung to his hand, tears pouring from her eyes like a flood.

She said nothing, just quietly held onto him.

Mark and John worked frantically to revive Eric, but Ella remained calm, sitting silently by his side.

"Young master, don’t fall asleep! Wake up!" Mark cried, his eyes flashing with a deadly resolve. "That bastard... I’ll make sure he pays for this!"

John, after several failed attempts to revive Eric, sat back, covering his face with his hands, defeated.

Ella remained seated, her gaze fixed on Eric’s perfectly still face. "Eric, you go ahead and rest. You must be tired. Just remember to wake up in a little while... and look at me again."

"Eric, you said before that when we’re old, we’d watch the stars together. We’d retire in a treehouse, raise some pigeons, grow a garden, and our children would visit us every now and then..."

"Eric... I wonder if you’d still be handsome if you got a tan?" she whispered with a small, trembling laugh, though her smile was more heart-wrenching than tears.

Mark couldn’t take it anymore. He broke down, covering his face as he sobbed.

Ella fell silent.

With trembling hands, she gently caressed Eric’s serene face.

She wished with all her heart that Eric would suddenly open his eyes, flash her that devilish grin, and say, "Hey, you’re crying for me? I could win an Oscar for this performance."

But he didn’t.

He just lay there, peacefully, in the seat of the car, unmoved by the speed they were racing at, or by Ella’s touch as she stroked his face and kissed his hands.

His elegant eyebrows, angled like distant mountains, remained motionless. His eyes, once filled with life, were now closed. His lips, dry and cracked, had lost their color. His face, once vibrant, was now pale. Every detail of his chiseled features was perfect... but it was a still, sorrowful kind of beauty.

Ella’s eyes trailed down to his scarred, burned hands, the skin scraped off his arms from when he had crawled to save her. Blood seeped from the raw wounds, and the sight pierced her heart with unbearable pain.

Her breath came in sharp gasps, and the anguish became too much to bear. The only sound in the car was Mark’s sobs, echoing through the space as Ella stared at Eric’s still, pale face, at the gruesome wound in his chest. Finally, the overwhelming grief and agony took over, and her vision went black as she fainted.

"Young Madam!"

John was shocked when he saw Ella collapse beside Eric. He immediately rushed to her side, pressing the pressure point on her upper lip, but Ella remained motionless, lying next to Eric.

"We’ve arrived at the hospital!" the driver shouted. The car doors swung open, and everyone scrambled to get Eric into the emergency room as quickly as possible.

John had already contacted the hospital en route, alerting them to prepare their most experienced doctors for Eric’s arrival. Eric’s high-profile status ensured the medical team was ready to act the moment they arrived, shaving precious minutes off the rescue efforts.

Mark and the others paced anxiously in the hospital hallway, unable to sit still. John, on the other hand, was busy calling Richard and other trusted allies. However, he deliberately chose not to inform James and his faction.

After all, tensions between Eric and James had long been simmering, and there was a chance this assassination attempt was connected to them.

Soon, Richard, Adam, Brian, and Amelia rushed into the hospital. Seeing the distressed look in Mark’s eyes, a terrible sense of foreboding gripped Richard.

Frowning deeply, Richard urgently asked John, "John, where is Eric hurt? Just a few hours ago, everything was fine. What happened?"

John shook his head. "Neither Mark nor I were with the boss today. We were on leave, so we arranged two bodyguards to protect the boss. But by the time we arrived, they had already been knocked out with tranquilizer darts. The treehouse security staff aren’t as well-trained as our bodyguards. They encountered two attackers and fought them off, severely injuring one and lightly injuring three others. One of the attackers is dead, and the other escaped."

"The gunman was wounded, and our team has him under control. But the boss... his injury is here..." John gestured to his chest, indicating the area near Eric’s heart.

Everyone’s expressions turned grim. If Eric’s heart was wounded, it was a very serious matter, and Ella fainting earlier only confirmed the gravity of the situation.

Amelia could hardly bear the weight of it. She sat down, covering her face with her hands as memories of Ella’s joyful smile and Eric’s mischievous grin flashed before her eyes.

Just a few hours ago, they were all together, celebrating Ella’s birthday. But now, in the blink of an eye, everything had changed. The contrast was so stark that it felt impossible to process.

Amelia’s throat tightened, her eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill. Richard, feeling utterly drained, sank down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, offering silent comfort.

Brian and Adam sat nearby, stunned into silence. After a while, Brian finally shook himself out of his daze and realized they needed to act. They couldn’t let the escaped assailant get away. He immediately began organizing a manhunt, determined to catch the one who had managed to flee.

This time, they couldn’t afford to let the mastermind hide in the shadows any longer. Whoever was behind this would be dragged out and made to pay.

...

"We’ve completed the mission. One of our guys got caught, but I’ll handle it. There’s no way he’ll reveal our identities," a man said coldly, sitting on the rooftop of a modest building, his voice indifferent as he spoke into the darkness.

"Hmph, I haven’t heard any official word of his death yet. I’ll send the rest of the payment after I’m sure that Eric’s incapacitated."

"Don’t worry. The shot hit him in the heart. I saw it through my scope. Although there were some minor complications, he’s as good as dead," the man replied with a cruel laugh.

How many people had escaped the hands of this infamous sharpshooter, known as "One-Shot Blade"? Very few, if any.

"Regardless, I stick to my principles. Until I have confirmed news, I won’t be sending the remaining funds," the voice on the other end replied firmly.