Chapter 742

Chapter 742:

The crowd at the entrance was now safely at a distance.

They gazed at Howard with gratitude.

“Mr. Johns, thank you!” someone called out.

Many of them were from Lorpond, familiar with Howard’s reputation.

They knew their escape had been made possible because of him, and their gratitude was palpable.

Howard watched as the last of them climbed into the police cars and drove off. A deep sigh of relief escaped him, but his gaze soon shifted to Milly, who lay on the sofa. Madisyn was by her side, carefully checking on her.

“Her vital signs are weak, but she’s still breathing. Thank goodness,” Madisyn said. “I’ll start treating her now. Let’s move her to the bedroom.”

Andrew gave a quick nod, and together, they gently placed Milly onto the bed. Once she was settled, Andrew and Howard moved to the living room to wait.

Howard turned to Andrew, his voice laced with gratitude. “Thank you.”

“You’re in bad shape,” Andrew noted, taking in the sight of bloodstains on his clothes.

Howard, usually the picture of composure, now appeared completely battered. Without a word, Andrew retrieved a medical kit and began tending to Howard’s wounds.

Howard didn’t resist; he was far too drained, and within moments, he slipped into a deep sleep on the sofa.

When he awoke, Howard found himself in a bedroom. He pushed himself to his feet, disoriented, and made his way to the living room. There, he saw Madisyn and Andrew sitting together.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“A hotel,” Madisyn answered. “You were completely wiped out, Howard. You slept for twelve hours.”

Ł∆†€$Ŧ ¢ħ∆₽ŧ€Ř$ įŋ g𝒶l𝑛ovєl𝑠𝒸o𝓂

Howard, not a martial arts expert, had clearly reached his breaking point.

“Where is Milly?” he inquired.

“Don’t worry, Milly’s resting. She’s slowly getting better and should wake up today,” Madisyn reassured, her tone calm. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled banknote. “I found this tucked in her clothes, right over her heart. There’s something written on it—it seems to mean a lot to her.”

Howard took the note, his eyes scanning the familiar scrawl. It read, ‘Keep going.’

His breath hitched. That handwriting… it was his, rough and a bit childish, likely scribbled down years ago.

Howard was stunned.

This banknote… had he given it to Milly?

A flood of memories hit him, and he found himself recalling his childhood days spent helping Elaine with charity work. He had met so many people—faces he could no longer place—but this note pulled him back to one in particular. A young girl from the slums, dirty and ragged, yet with eyes that burned with fierce, icy defiance.

Could it be… Milly was that girl?

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