Chapter 234

Michael Johnson jolted upright in bed, his forehead damp with cold sweat.

The dream had felt too real—so vivid that he couldn’t distinguish reality from illusion.

His hands trembled as he fumbled for his phone, his finger hovering over Lucy White’s contact. But he couldn’t bring himself to call.

"Has she... experienced this too?"

The thought took root in his mind, spreading like wildfire.

Staggering into the bathroom, he splashed icy water on his face, but it did nothing to extinguish the searing pain in his chest.

In the wine cellar, Michael uncorked a bottle of the strongest whiskey.

"Dad, come down and have a drink with me," he rasped, his voice raw.

Edward Johnson descended in his robe to find his son slumped at the bar, eyes bloodshot.

"What’s wrong?" Edward frowned. "Is this about Lucy again?"

Michael threw back a shot, his throat working. "I dreamed... I drove her to her death."

The glass hit the counter with a sharp crack.

Edward’s heart lurched. "Don’t talk nonsense!"

"It’s not nonsense." Michael’s laugh was hollow. "I kept hurting her for someone else’s sake, and in the end, she... jumped from the twenty-eighth floor."

His fingers dug into the glass, knuckles white.

After a long silence, Edward sighed. "If you regret it now, it’s not too late."

"It is." Michael’s voice shook. "If that dream was real... she’ll never forgive me in this lifetime."

The whiskey swirled in his glass, distorting his reflection—just like his shattered heart.

Edward studied his son, reminded of his own past. "Your mother never truly forgave me either."

"But at least... you still get to stay by her side." Michael’s eyes burned. "I don’t even have that right anymore."

Suddenly, he buried his face in his hands, shoulders heaving.

Tears seeped through his fingers, splattering onto the marble counter.

Edward had never seen his son so broken. He hesitated, unsure how to respond.

"I’ve made a decision." Michael lifted his head, his gaze resolute. "I’m leaving the industry."

"What?" Edward was stunned. "But you’ve always—"

"It’s meaningless now." Michael cut him off. "In this world, I couldn’t protect her."

The image of Lucy, bloodied and lifeless in his dream, pierced his heart like a blade.

"I’ll take over the family business," he said quietly. "This time, I won’t let her suffer again."

Even if... it meant watching from afar.

Edward considered him thoughtfully. "You’ve really thought this through?"

"I have." Michael drained the last of his whiskey, the glass reflecting his red-rimmed eyes. "Some mistakes... can never be undone."

Like the irreversible sin he’d committed in that dream.