Chapter 656

When the gunshot rang out, Liam Sullivan only saw the spray of blood as the bullet tore into Luna Clark's ankle.

He completely ignored the dull, heavy thud behind him.

"Oliver." Liam's voice was like sandpaper grating against his throat. "You said her injury was in the abdomen—when you arrived, was she already unable to move?"

Oliver Winston looked at him.

Liam's hands were trembling. He pressed them hard against his temples, his knuckles white.

"Yes," Oliver said, his Adam's apple bobbing. "When I went in, she was slumped over the table. Blood was flowing from her abdomen all the way to the floor… It was horrific. I couldn't even bear to look closely. Only Isabella Sullivan was there. She couldn't move; it couldn't have been her. Liam, was it Luna Clark? How could that woman be so vicious? Vivian Bennett's sternum shattered against the marble table corner. This time… are you still going to protect Luna Clark?"

His voice trembled as he spoke.

The image was too brutal.

Injured by a rival, then her lover carrying that rival away, leaving her gravely wounded and dying—what woman could endure that kind of despair?

All color drained from Liam's face.

The pain in his eyes was like a black hole, swallowing all light.

"...It was me," his lips moved, the words a whisper, light as a sigh. "I pushed her. That impact against the table… I caused it."

Oliver's pupils constricted sharply.

Vivian's critical injury… was caused by Liam's own hand?

He was the one who pushed her, shattered her sternum, brought her to death's door.

Oliver sucked in a sharp, cold breath. His blood ran icy.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

So it wasn't carelessness. It wasn't negligence.

It was by his own hand.

Being abandoned was painful enough.

But being pushed to the brink of death by the person you love most—how could that pain even be described?

Oliver didn't dare imagine what Vivian must have felt in that moment of impact.

The excruciating pain of a shattered sternum probably paled in comparison to the complete collapse happening inside her heart.

This situation was utterly, irrevocably broken.

Not even a crack of hope remained.

"Liam," Oliver's voice was hoarse. "At that time… why didn't you turn around to look at her? If you had, at least she wouldn't hate you to this extent."

Mistake upon mistake.

One wrong step, then another, all chosen by Liam himself.

"She said she was injured too," Liam's eyes were vacant. "She asked me why I didn't go check on her… The look in her eyes then, it was so full of despair. But I saw nothing. I only saw the blood on Luna Clark's foot. I thought she was being too cruel. I was angry with her. I didn't turn around."

He sat there, numb.

His eyes were bloodshot, the red veins almost bursting.

A single tear traced down his cheek without warning.

He released his grip on his temples, clenching his hands into tight fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

Beads of blood seeped from between his fingers. One drop, then another, splattering onto the floor.

"She was in so much pain, so desperate, begging me to look at her," Liam's voice was ragged. "But I was holding Luna Clark. I was worried about Luna Clark's injury."

"She said I owed her the most… I thought I could make it up to her later. I thought we had plenty of time."

"I pushed her. I hurt her. Then I abandoned her."

"I'm scum."

His clenched fists trembled slightly. The blood still flowed.

But he felt no pain.

The sting in his palms was nothing, not even one ten-thousandth of the agony of his heart being slowly carved apart.