CHAPTER 004
1655 Words
Connor stood tall, his broad shoulders squared and his head held high. The room where Agnes had left him moments ago was now extremely quiet.
He could feel his legs again. It was a strange sensation after being paralyzed for so long.
"It worked," Connor murmured to himself. He was still in shock, even though he had been secretly working toward this moment.
It had finally worked. After years of relentless effort and secretly funneling every penny he had into a military rehabilitation program, his legs were no longer lifeless.
"I can't believe this," he muttered again, this time thinking about what had transpired just a few moments ago between him and Agnes.
He was standing, yet the person who mattered most—his beloved wife, Agnes—had walked away before she could witness this moment. She had left, still believing he was permanently crippled and useless.
Unbeknownst to Connor, he wasn’t alone. Mrs. Whitaker, Agnes’s mother, stood in the doorway, frozen in shock. Her mouth hung open.
"My God," she whispered to herself, still in deep shock from the sight of Connor's powerful physique.
Her piercing eyes remained fixed on Connor’s silhouette, her expression was filled with both disbelief and unease. She couldn’t reconcile the man standing before her with the one she had known—the man confined to a wheelchair for years.
But Mrs. Whitaker was a proud woman, and she wouldn’t let her surprise show. Instead, her lips curled into a frown as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Hmm... I see," she said, the shock fading from her face, replaced by anger.
“So, you can stand now,” she said icily, breaking the silence. “And what difference does it make? Do you think that changes anything?”
"Huh?" she scoffed.
Connor turned to face her, his jaw tightening. “Mrs. Whitaker,” he began, his voice strong— different from the weak, timid tone she had once associated with him.
“I never wanted things to come to this. I didn’t want Agnes to leave. I—” Connor started.
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Enough! Enough of all these nonsense,” she snapped. “You’ve already put my daughter through enough shame. Do you think standing on your own two feet will erase the years of struggle she endured because of you? The sacrifices she made for a man who couldn’t even—” She paused, her voice thick with anger.
“Who couldn’t even support himself, let alone her. You remain that disgrace of a husband, you hear me?!”
Connor clenched his fists at his sides. Her words stung, but he couldn’t argue with them—not yet.
“I understand how you feel,” he said softly with a calm tone. “But I never wanted to be a burden. Do you think I enjoyed being helpless, relying on her for everything? I’ve fought every single day to get here, to stand here in front of you. Doesn’t that count for something?”
His jaw tightened again as he noticed Mrs. Whitaker preparing to unleash more hurtful words.
Mrs. Whitaker’s eyes narrowed. “What counts,” she said coldly, “is that my daughter gave you everything, and you gave her nothing in return."
"How can you even think something has changed? Can't you see she left you already?" she said, reminding Connor of the reality he was trying to avoid.
"She’s gone, Connor, and she’s not coming back. You’ve lost her, and now you need to leave this house. You don’t belong here anymore."
"You think I'd let you stay here after disappointing my daughter? You must be joking," she added angrily.
Connor’s heart ached at her words, but he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. Agnes had left, and he hadn’t been able to stop her because he had been lying helpless on the floor.
Still, he couldn’t let things end like this. He had to see her, to explain, to show her that he had finally taken a step—literally and figuratively—toward being the man she deserved.
"Why am I even wasting my words on you? Leave, just leave... Leave us alone!" she yelled.
Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “I’ll leave,” he said simply, “but not because you told me to. I’m leaving because I need to find Agnes.”
"You can try and fail... That's all you're capable of anyway—trying and failing, like you’ve done for the past three years," she said.
Connor didn’t respond to her words. He only nodded.
Mrs. Whitaker scoffed but said nothing more as Connor turned and walked out the door.
- - - - -
The air outside hit Connor’s face as he stepped outside. For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the reality of his situation sink in.
"I guess there's still something missing," he murmured to himself.
He was standing on his own two feet, but his journey was far from over. Though his meridians were unblocked and he could move freely again, his martial arts cultivation hadn’t returned to its former glory.
He had once been a Grandmaster, a pinnacle of strength and skill, above all other ranks in martial arts called realms.
There were four ranks in all: the Warrior realm, the Master realm, the Sect Master realm, and finally, the Grandmaster realm.
But now he was stuck at the Warrior realm—a level still far beyond ordinary people but far below where he once was.
“This isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning," Connor whispered to himself, realizing the challenge ahead of him, and the implications of being stuck at the warrior realm after his recovery.
The thought quickly left his mind the moment he thought of Agnes again.
He hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the Whitaker family estate.
He had a strong feeling Agnes would go there to see her grandmother, Lady Matilda, the matriarch of the Whitaker family, the same woman who was planning to take everything away from Agnes.
Lady Matilda was a powerful woman, a billionaire who controlled the Whitaker’s family businesses and properties. She had always favored Agnes’s brother, Dean, and Connor suspected that Agnes had been called there by her grandmother to talk about the company.
"We’re here, sir!" the cab driver announced as they reached the Whitaker mansion.
Connor stepped out, paid the driver, and advanced cautiously toward the gate, hoping to find Agnes there.
He made his way quietly to the entrance of Lady Matilda’s office within the mansion. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, and he could hear voices inside.
He stopped just a step away from entering the office, choosing instead to remain outside and listen.
Lady Matilda’s voice was sharp and commanding, filling the room with authority as she spoke to Agnes.
“Agnes, you must understand that this isn’t personal. It’s about what’s best for the family,” Connor heard Lady Matilda say harshly.
Agnes’s voice trembled as she responded. “How is stripping me of everything I’ve worked for ‘what’s best for the family’? I’ve dedicated my life to this company, Grandmother. I’ve kept it afloat during hard times. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
"Are you just going to throw away everything that I’ve worked for? Are you going to forget about all the sacrifices I made for this family?" Agnes said with a strained voice.
Dean’s voice cut in arrogantly as usual. “What you’ve done is barely enough to keep the lights on. Let’s face it, Agnes, you’ve been holding the company back. And with your... situation at home, you’re clearly not in a position to lead. A woman married to a cripple can’t possibly run a business like this.”
"Yes, you heard me. Your crippled husband automatically disqualifies you from being fit for a role like this," he added, his tone filled with mockery, despite knowing that it was never Agnes’ choice to marry a disabled man. He and their grandmother were the ones who made the scheme to get her married to a disabled man in order to use it against her.
Connor’s fists clenched at his sides as he heard Dean’s words. The insult wasn’t just aimed at him—it was a dagger to Agnes’s heart.
He knew Dean wanted to push Agnes out after all she had done to keep the company afloat.
“Dean!” Agnes cried, her voice breaking. “How can you say that? You know how hard I’ve worked, how much I’ve sacrificed!”
Dean laughed cruelly, a cold, hollow sound. “Sacrifice? You call clinging to a sinking ship ‘sacrifice’? Be honest, Agnes. You’re out of your depth, and it’s time you accepted that.”
Lady Matilda sighed, her tone filled with impatience. “Agnes, enough of this. The decision has been made. Dean will take over the company effective immediately. It’s what’s best for everyone. You don’t have a say in this matter.”
Tears streamed down Agnes’s face as she pleaded with them. “Grandmother, please! Don’t do this to me. This company is my life. It’s all I have left.”
Dean smirked, stepping closer to her. “What you have left is a husband who’s a burden, a crippled man and a career that’s going nowhere. Do yourself a favor and step aside gracefully. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
Agnes stared at him, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. “You wouldn’t...”
“Try me,” Dean said smugly, his eyes filled with rage as he clenched his teeth.
"Try me, and you’ll realize that I run things around here, not you," he threatened.
"You can’t do this. It’s not fair, Dean," Agnes said, her voice shaking. She knew she couldn’t survive without the company.
- Writer
