Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 18

Blood And Promises Novel by Sabrina Hart Chapter 18

On the third day at dawn, when the first faint light barely squeezed through the heavy curtains, Richard stirred. He pulled open the drawer, took out paper and pen, and wrote a series of orders at lightning speed, stamping them with his personal seal.

Rebecca, for forging critical illness records to fraudulently obtain medical resources, inciting and participating in the intentional harm of military family members, was convicted of multiple crimes with conclusive evidence, transferred to the military tribunal, and sentenced with utmost severity.

Meredith, for participating in intentional harm.

In the end, one was sentenced to fifteen years, the other to ten.

Emerson came in person, tears streaming down his aged face, hoping to plead for Meredith and also to salvage his relationship with the Cantrell family. Richard said only one sentence to him: “General Serrano, when you decided to use her in exchange for your family’s peace, you should have foreseen this day.”

Emerson’s face turned ashen, and he staggered away.

After handling everything, Richard returned to the empty house. He had already given Mollie an extended leave. The house was eerily quiet, with traces of Samantha’s life lingering everywhere. Some of the flowers she kept on the balcony had wilted, a book she was halfway through still lay on the living room sofa, and her favorite cup was still upside down on the dish rack in the kitchen.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom. Their wedding photo still hung on the wall. In the photo, she wore a pure white wedding dress, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers, her eyes curved in a radiant, dazzling smile.

He stared at that photo for a very, very long time. Suddenly, he raised his hand and, using all his strength, slapped himself hard across the face. The crisp sound echoed through the silent room. Then came the second slap, the third… He seemed not to feel the pain, striking his face mechanically and fiercely, left and right, until the corner of his mouth split and bled, his cheeks swelled high and burned with pain.

At last he stopped, gasping for breath, looking up at the girl in the photo whose smile bloomed like a flower. In his reddened eyes, something scalding could no longer be contained and surged out.

“Sammy…” His voice was hoarse and broken, every word laced with blood and tears. “I was wrong… I really was wrong… I shouldn’t have doubted you… shouldn’t have treated you that way… I’ll gouge out my eyes for you… I’ll give you my life in return… will that do?”

“Give me a chance… I’m begging you… give me a chance… I’ll use all the time I have left to treat you well… with my life…”

In the empty room, only his painful, suppressed sobs echoed, with no response at all.

Richard submitted a request for long-term leave. The reason stated was “handling major personal affairs, requiring extended absence,” but the truth was tacitly understood—he was going to Junction City, determined to do whatever it took to win back his wife.

When the plane landed in Junction City again, his state of mind was completely different. Last time, he had come in anxious search, carrying lingering arrogance and uncertainty. This time, he came to atone. Stripped of the aura brought by the rank of Major General, having set aside all pride and dignity, he was merely a sinner who had lost his way, lost his beloved, and now desperately sought forgiveness.

He found out that Samantha was living in an apartment under Humberto’s name. Humberto seemed intent on shielding her from all disturbances; the residence was tightly secured and the environment tranquil.

Unable to get in, Richard simply waited downstairs. From sunrise, to sunset, to a sky full of stars.

On the first day, he did not see her. He only saw Humberto’s car coming and going, and occasionally caught a blurry glimpse of Samantha’s profile in the passenger seat.

The second day was the same.

Autumn rain fell steadily, and he stood in the rain, motionless like a silent statue. The rain soaked his hair and uniform, dripping from his chin. Passersby pointed and whispered, but he was oblivious.

On the third evening, the rain stopped, and a faint rainbow appeared on the horizon.

A black sedan slowly approached and stopped in front of the apartment building. Humberto got out first, walked around to the other side, and considerately opened the car door, shielding the top with his hand.

Samantha got out of the car. She wore a light beige knitted dress with a matching cardigan, her long hair loosely tied up. There was a trace of fatigue on her face, but she looked much better than last time.

Humberto naturally took the small bag from her hand and said something to her in a low voice. Samantha nodded slightly, and there seemed to be a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

That hint of a smile stabbed Richard in the eyes. He moved his stiff, numb legs, wanting to walk over, but staggered from poor circulation. He quickly steadied himself and, with heavy and urgent steps, blocked their path.

“Sammy.” He spoke, his voice so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. After three days without a drop of water, his throat felt as if it had been scraped with sandpaper.

Samantha and Humberto stopped at the same time. When she saw him, the faintest trace of a smile vanished instantly from Samantha’s face, leaving only utter calm and indifference. Her gaze at him was no different from how she looked at stones or trees by the roadside.

Humberto stepped forward half a pace, shielding Samantha behind him, his expression stern: “Major General Cantrell, what do you want?”

Richard’s gaze rested only on Samantha’s face, ignoring Humberto’s hostility. He looked at her greedily, searching for any trace of the past on her face, even a hint of resentment would have sufficed. But there was nothing—only a bottomless indifference.

“Let’s talk.” He heard his own dry voice, tinged with humble pleading.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Samantha’s reply was quick and cold, without a trace of hesitation. She did not even want to spare him another glance, turning to leave.

“I’ve found out everything about Rebecca!” Richard said urgently, his words tumbling out in a rush. “She forged medical records, conspired with Meredith to hurt you, the evidence is conclusive, they’ve already been sent to the military tribunal and sentenced to fifteen years. Meredith is in prison too. Your injury…” His gaze fell on her arm, once burned by acid and now much faded, his throat tightening. “Does it still hurt?”

Samantha’s steps halted.

She slowly turned around and looked at Richard. Her gaze was calm, even carrying a faint, almost compassionate mockery. Then, suddenly, she smiled. The smile was beautiful, yet so cold it held not a trace of warmth, like the perpetual snow atop a mountain peak.

“Richard,” she asked softly, enunciating each word, “who are you doing all this for now?”