BENEATH THE ICE

Elora Griffiths was on her way to drop her daughter off at school when her husband's enemies launched an attack in the street.

The bodyguard assigned to protect them left immediately when the incident occurred.

Both mother and daughter were seriously injured.

Elora frantically called her husband, Rodger Griffiths, but he didn't answer.

Her brother, Hugh Dale, arrived just in time and saved them both.

"How could this happen? Didn't Rodger assign someone to protect you?" Hugh asked.

Elora sobbed uncontrollably, "The bodyguard ran away!"

On the way to the hospital, Elora kept trying Rodger's number, desperate.

One call after another…

Finally, on the ninety-ninth attempt, the line connected. On the other end was the female bodyguard, trembling, her voice barely holding back tears.

"Rodger, it's really not my fault! There were so many assassins. I would've died if I tried to stop them! I was so scared…"

Elora held her breath, waiting for her husband's wrath to thunder down.

But Rodger just sighed.

"Forget it. The important thing is you're safe," he said.

Meanwhile, Elora's daughter's condition worsened in her arms.

The pain was overwhelming.

She held her daughter close, teeth gritted in fury, "Hugh, I'm divorcing him! I'll terminate all business collaborations wit the Griffiths family in Crownport!"

...

Excessive blood loss and overwhelming grief took their toll.

Elora let out a scream before collapsing into unconsciousness.

She dreamt for what seemed like an eternity.

The Dale and Griffiths families had been enemies for generations.

Years ago, Rodger had begged and pleaded with the Dale family endlessly for her hand in marriage, even resorting to extreme measures to prove his commitment.

"I, Rodger Griffiths, will love Elora for a lifetime. "If I ever fail in this, may I face the consequences!"

Elora still remembered the crimson vividly—but the blood flowing from her daughter Franny now was far more horrifying.

Elora didn't know how long she had slept before she finally woke.

The grief muddled her thoughts. Many things were hazy at first.

She was in her old room at the Dale family home, her pre-marriage room.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw a photo of her, Rodger, and their daughter hanging on the wall.

Her nose stung for no reason, and tears slipped down.

She frowned, confused.

"How… how did I get home? Where's Rodger? Call him, have him come here."

The maid's hand trembled as she poured water, shaking her head nervously.

"He's already been called. Mr. Griffiths said he's busy."

Elora's frown deepened.

Rodger had loved her so fiercely. When he was abroad negotiating billion-dollar projects, she had said she missed him, and he would drop everything, fly back overnight just to hold her. How could she not even reach him now?

Before she could ask again, Hugh strode in, his face grave.

"Elora, Franny's about to be buried. As her mother, you should give her a proper farewell."

A ringing buzz filled Elora's ears.

She couldn't make sense of his words.

"What… what did you say?"

"Franny was too young. The injuries were severe. By the time she reached the hospital… she was already gone."