Helena's whole frame quivered as he pulled her into his arms.
For a moment, she wanted to resist. But her strength was gone. All she could do was let him hold her—just this once.
When they returned to the villa, Jackson carried Helena into the guest room and gently set her down on the bed.
But that gentleness cut deeper than a knife.
Helena lay there motionless, staring blankly at the ceiling—like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
Jackson didn't leave. He stood by the window, his tall figure bathed in silver moonlight, the shadow he cast stretching across the room until it swallowed her whole.
"Helena," he finally said, his tone calm but distant. "What happened back then was your fault. You should take care of yourself now and stop causing trouble."
Her lashes fluttered, but she said nothing.
How ironic. After lying for so long, had Jackson started believing his own lies?
Her only mistake—her greatest mistake—was falling in love with him.
When she didn't answer, Jackson's voice softened.
"If you still want a child... I'll give you one in the future."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "And about your research—I'll have a lab built at home so you can continue your work in peace."