The Heiress Revived from the Ashes (Lauren Bennett) novel Chapter 174

Chapter 174 The Breaking Point

Gael, full name Gael Leach, was a man of few words and deadly efficiency.

A former Special Forces operative, he had once single–handedly raided a drug cartel stronghold in the Gloisal, earning him the nickname “The King of Hell” in underground circles. After he retired, Felix had recruited him as a driver and shadow operative, handling matters that required… discretion.

To outsiders, Gael was the quiet, unassuming chauffeur. But those in the know understood. When Felix used him, the truth would be unearthed, no matter how deeply buried.

Josh sank back onto the sofa, recognizing the unspoken message in Felix’s order. This isn’t an investigation anymore. This is a

hunt.

With Goel involved, every Bennett family secret–past and present–would be unearthed.

A suffocating silence fell over the room.

Lauren’s eyes swept over the faces around her. Kate’s sad frown, Marilyn’s tearful eyes, Josh’s clenched jaw. Their pity was a vise around her heart.

How pathetic must I look?

She forced a shallow breath. Don’t break. Not here.

“I…I have to lie down, she murmured, rising unsteadily.

The room spun. Three pairs of hands shot out, which are Felix’s, Josh’s, and Jeffrey’s. But she stiffened her knees and grabbed the arm of the sofa.

“I’m fine,” she lied, her lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. “I just got up too fast.”

Marilyn hovered anxiously. “Ms. Bennett, at least eat some breakfast Lauren read her lips and shook her head. “No appetite.”

Each step toward the stairs felt like wading through tar. Behind her, Marilyn stifled a sob at the sight of her swaying gait. How could the Bennett family do this? Steal from their own flesh and blood.

Lauren didn’t go to her bedroom.

She staggered into the embroidery room

Sunlight streamed through the bay windows, gilding the half–finished pronk tapestry, Queen of Blooms, on the loom

Felix had designed this room for her. He said, “When you’re tired, stand here. Breathe. The view will calm you!

But today, the vibrant garden below–a riot of crimson, blush, and snow–white blooms–might as well have been grayscale.

Her fingers brushed the silk threads, usually so vibrant, now dull as ash.

The needle. Concentrate on the needle.

She threaded the embroidery needle with trembling hands, the shh shh of silk through linen a faint distraction.

First stitch. In her mind was David’s indifferent look when she’d called him “father.”

Second stitch. The picture of Alice’s back turning as Willow mocked her deaf ear appeared.

Third stitch. The hospital bed. Cold steel. The missing kidney–a tear splattered on the fabric. Then another. She scrubbed furiously, but the floodgates had burst