Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 1708

But now she knew. Her grandfather's death had absolutely nothing to do with Steve. He had been killed by her own mother and brother.

Another tear dropped. Then a third, a fourth. Sylvia bit her lower lip so hard it began to bleed. Her shoulders shook violently as the tears cascaded down like a broken dam. Every breath she took felt as if her internal organs were being shredded by knives.

Watching her on the verge of a total breakdown, Steve felt his heart clench tightly. He quickly stood up, looking around for some tissues to wipe her tears. But in this dilapidated yard, there wasn't a single usable piece of paper. He spun in place anxiously before his gaze finally landed on his own clothes.

Steve was a severe germaphobe. Usually, if even a speck of dust landed on his bespoke shirts, he would throw them straight into the trash. Yet in this moment, he walked right up to Sylvia without a second thought and offered his expensive sleeve to her red, tear streaked eyes.

"The truth is often cruel," he said softly. "Do not hold it in. If you need to cry, just cry out loud."

Through her blurry vision, Sylvia looked at the offered sleeve, then up at Steve's worry filled face. She didn't use his shirt to dry her eyes. Instead, she took two deep breaths, forcefully swallowing the sobs caught in her throat. She haphazardly wiped her face with the back of her hand, slowly reeling in her shattered emotions.

Methodically, she gathered the documents on the table and slid them back into the manila envelope. When she looked up, her voice was hoarse but as cold and impenetrable as a fortress wall. "It is getting late, Mr. Michell. I will not keep you any longer."

Steve's arm froze in midair. He was utterly dumbfounded. "Wait. I drove all the way out here and went through all the trouble to uncover the truth for you, and you are just going to dismiss me after one bowl of noodles?" This was entirely too heartless.

Once she was absolutely certain Steve was gone, Sylvia gripped the manila envelope with both hands, buried her face in the wooden table, and wept uncontrollably. She cried without a shred of dignity, her wails tearing through the quiet afternoon. It was as if she needed to expel every ounce of grievance, guilt, and bitter hatred that had been suffocating her for the past year all at once.

She simply could not comprehend it. He was her mother's own biological father. He was the man her brother had called grandpa for thirty years. How could they be so vicious? Just for a piece of the Capital's corporate pie, just for the Moore family's profit, they were willing to abandon their own flesh and blood to die?

Closing her eyes, Sylvia was tortured by the involuntary mental image of Arthur collapsing on the ground. He was clutching his agonizing chest, watching his own family walk away without even looking back. In those final moments, her grandfather must have felt a despair and heartbreak so profound it defied imagination.