Revenge is Best Served After Reborn (James) novel Chapter 1187

Griffin stood still, not even flinching, as the bullet zipped right past his ear, missing him by inches. Blood slowly trickled from his earlobe.

Grinning like he'd just uncovered Colby's darkest secret, Griffin taunted, "So you didn’t tell her, did you, Colby? You’re nothing but a coward, a scaredy-cat. If Sophie knew about your condition—that your love isn't what she thinks it is—would she still love you?"

With every word Griffin uttered, Colby's eyes grew colder, his stare more piercing.

Unfazed, Griffin pressed on, "I've heard Sophie is pretty picky when it comes to relationships. If she found out that your so-called love has been a sham for over a year, would she kick you out of her life and hate you forever?"

"You must have a death wish," Colby replied, his face now devoid of any hint of a smile.

The people around them quickly sensed Colby's intense rage. They rushed to restrain him, one of them urging, "Boss! Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to rile you up! If he dies, we’ll never find out who's pulling the strings!"

Colby’s expression was ice-cold, completely void of warmth.

Griffin knew this was the real Colby. He was a man born without emotions, without sympathy, without empathy.

Medically, people like him are said to suffer from emotional detachment, leading to emotional neglect. Such individuals... they can't love, for they lack the very capacity to do so.

Meanwhile, at the Burke Estate—

Sophie woke up to find Colby missing from their bed. She got up, scanning the dim room for any sign of him. "Colby?"

Where could he have gone?

Sophie climbed out of bed and turned on the table lamp, accidentally knocking over a cup. The cup shattered on the floor, scattering pieces everywhere. As she bent down to pick up the shards, a sharp pain shot through her finger. She glanced down to see blood oozing from a small cut.

Intent on finding a first aid kit, Sophie left the room and noticed the living room lamp was on. She descended the stairs, the dim orange glow casting long shadows but revealing no one.

Gordon picked up a cane from beside the sofa. “It’s not that I can’t walk; I just prefer not to wear myself out.”

Noticing the coffee cup in Gordon’s hand, Sophie asked, “Mr. Gordon, you’re still up?”

Gordon didn’t respond immediately. His eyes fell on the wound on Sophie’s hand. The cut was small but still bleeding.

He then opened the coffee table drawer and pulled out some antiseptic and a bandage. “Every room has a first aid kit. Didn’t Rick tell you?”

“...I forgot. I’m not great at remembering these things.”

Usually, it was Colby who took care of details like these for her.