Her Rebirth of Retribution novel Chapter 112

Truly, he was profoundly in love. This was a man who had always put his own needs first, but now, for the first time, he was acting in selfless silence.

Kallum never imagined a day when he would go to such lengths for someone else. He harbored a hope that if she ever felt let down by him, the news of his demise wouldn't burden her with too much grief.

Calista, I truly like you.

Meanwhile, Calista had made her way to the Fairchild Manor.

Kallum was not at the hospital as anticipated; his injuries, while notable, were not severe enough to warrant continued hospitalization, so he was recuperating at home.

The journey there left Calista with a heavy feeling in her head. As if on cue with her somber mood, the sky opened up, a gentle rain beginning to fall, which only intensified her feelings of feverishness.

The dreary, rainy weather carried with it the chill of early autumn, seeping coldly into the bones.

Clad in a stark white coat, Calista seemed even more delicate under the somber skies. Her complexion was ghostly pale as she stood at the entrance of the Fairchild Manor, her shoes noticeably ill-fitting.

Strangely, the usually bustling manor was now unsettlingly quiet, a stark contrast to its usual liveliness.

As Calista approached, a security guard noticed her and moved to intercept her. However, she quickly slipped off a thumb ring.

“No need to announce me; I'll go in myself!”

Upon recognizing the ring that marked her as the lady of the house, the guard stepped aside, not daring to bar her entry. The housekeepers they passed gave her odd, almost respectful glances. Calista found their expressions curious but pressed on to Kallum's room without incident.

The manor was without the presence of Wanda and Silas, and it seemed unusually understaffed today, lacking the usual bustling activity. Only a few older, more loyal housekeepers were in sight.

Has something happened to the Fairchilds?

Calista remembered, in her previous life, after Kallum's return, he had been bedridden for months. Could it really be just a minor ailment? Why is he not in a hospital, but at home? Is Kallum doing okay?

With these questions swirling in her mind, Calista reached Kallum's door, poised to knock. Yet, the sound of a woman's voice inside halted her hand in mid-air.

“Kal, you're truly incredible! I absolutely adore the Seventh Symphony by Valmont. I heard it was lost long ago. How did you manage to find it?”

Her hand, previously ready to knock, now clenched into a fist at her side, trembling slightly as she fought to contain her emotions.

The same gentle voice continued, seemingly unaware of the turmoil outside the door. “Kal, what's wrong? Why aren't you speaking?”

“Feelings are selfish. If you had feelings for me, you should have fought for it. If you chose to give up because of Calista, then the title of the lady of the house—” His words trailed off as an abrupt loud bang interrupted him.

The door flew open with a kick from Calista, whose temper seemed to be worsening, a newfound penchant for kicking doors evident.

Her damp, long hair framed her face, her frame pale and thin, but her eyes blazed with a piercing cold glare. A slight smile curved her red lips as she burst into laughter.

“What did you just say? I accidentally interrupted you, feel free to continue.”

“Callie!” Mirabelle gasped, taken aback. Though she had heard that Calista had changed, this was far beyond her expectations.

When Calista's gaze swept over him, Kallum felt as if something sharp had grazed his skin, causing a sensation of pain.

Time apart had transformed Calista significantly.

However, Mirabelle was a woman of many talents and quickly adapted to the situation. Rushing over, she expressed concern, “Callie, are you okay? How come you're all drenched? You could get sick!”

As Mirabelle reached out to her as she used to, Calista instinctively pulled away without a second thought. She didn't use much force, but Mirabelle fell to the ground as if made of paper, her expression one of disbelief.