Silent Dreams Never Die — Author: John Miller 396
Chapter 396 Confrontation and Haunting Memories
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Luke’s face was slick with sweat, his expression a mix of panic and dread. “Vincent, you have to help me,” he pleaded, his voice shaky. “Naomi told Damian everything. He’s not going to let this go.”
Vincent abruptly flicked his cigarette out the window. When he turned, his eyes were intense. “Then why didn’t you think about the consequences before doing something so stupid?”
The scolding made Luke’s stomach drop. “I didn’t know!” he blurted out defensively. “How was I supposed to know Damian cared about that woman more than his own life?”
Vincent’s expression remained unsettlingly calm. “Even an outsider values her that much. And you? She was my wife for five years. How could you hire someone to assault her?”
Luke froze as if struck, staring at Vincent in stunned silence.
A long moment passed before a bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. “Isn’t that what you taught us?” he shot back, his voice rising. “When did you ever show her an ounce of care? If you had, even for a second, Daniel and I wouldn’t have treated her like that. Let’s be honest–aren’t you the one who set the example?”
His words hit their mark, sharp as needles. Vincent was quiet for a beat before replying, low and firm, “I never laid a hand on her.”
Luke’s laugh turned colder, more scornful. “Oh, big deal, you didn’t hit her. Your indifference, your neglect–that’s what cuts deeper. You’re the one who slowly killed the cheerful, lively woman she used to be, the one who was always around trying to be part of this family.”
A flash of anger crossed Vincent’s features. He turned his head sharply, glaring at Luke. “Get out of the car. Go back to your dorm.”
In that moment, Luke seemed past fear. “Scarlett loving you was the biggest mistake of her life,” he stated flatly.
Then he shoved the car door open and climbed out, slamming it shut with a force that made the whole vehicle shudder.
The loud bang echoed in the sudden quiet. Vincent sat alone in the driver’s seat for a long moment. Despite his harshness, he pulled out his phone and called Abbott.
When his assistant answered, Vincent’s instructions were concise. “Put someone on Luke. Watch Damian too. The moment Damian makes a move toward him, intervene. I don’t want Luke hurt.”
“Understood, Mr. Stewart.”
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Chapter 396 Confrontation and Haunting Memories
After ending the call, Vincent drove back to Ravenshade Villa.
That night, after he finally fell asleep, Vincent dreamt of Scarlett.
It was the first time he had dreamed of her since their marriage ended.
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In the dream, she was always smiling warmly, and the texts she sent were filled with a hopeful, persistent affection.
“Vincent, does this color look good on me?”
“Vincent, what do you think of this hair clip?”
“Vincent, I saw the neighbor’s cat today. It was so sweet–it even reached its paw out to me.”
“I’ve run a bath for you. It’s ready.”
“Should I make oatmeal or toast for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Will you be home for dinner tonight?”
“Could you… spend a little more time with me? But if you’re busy, it’s… it’s okay.”
“The baby kicked today. I don’t think he’s heard his daddy’s voice in months.”
“Vincent, my water broke. Can you come? I want you to be the first to hold him.”
“I’m so worn out. Can you come help me with Vanessa?”
“Vincent, Vanessa said ‘daddy‘ today. Will you come hear her?”
“Vanessa’s first tooth came in.”
“Vincent, I’m so tired. Can’t you really come back?”
Beyond the cascade of messages, other scenes played out in his dream.
She always woke before him to make breakfast, iron his suits and dress shirts, pick out his ties, polish his shoes, and pack his briefcase.
When he came home from work, she was always at the door first, taking his briefcase from his hand. “You must be tired,” she’d say softly. “I made the chicken noodle soup you like. Let me get you a bowl.”
When he worked late, she would slip quietly into the study with a cup of warm milk. “Don’t overdo it,” she’d whisper. “It can wait till tomorrow.”
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After Vanessa was born, Scarlett moved their daughter’s crib to the first–floor guest room so their crying newborn wouldn’t disturb his sleep or concentration.
In their intimate moments, she gave herself completely, anxious about his comfort, his satisfaction.
Afterwards, she would gently clean him with a towel, then curl against his side and ask, softly, “Was it good for you?”
Usually, Vincent would just light a cigarette and lean back against the headboard, his mind already drifting–to work, or to thoughts of Sabrina.
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