Chapter 1181: Chapter 1181: If I Am in Hell, Then You Must Be in Heaven

Due to the old lady’s illness, Richard Shaw had a stern face and was reticent. Seeing this, Leah called Delphine, saying she might not return home to sleep tonight.

In the Shaw Family, each generation had only one ancestor. The old lady held extraordinary significance for the entire family. Moreover, if she was truly Richard Shaw’s ex-wife, she could be considered someone raised by the old lady.

Richard Shaw invited another senior doctor to prepare a nourishing traditional Chinese medicine for the old lady. After feeding her, around nine or ten o’clock in the evening, the old lady’s condition finally stabilized, and she regained consciousness.

Seeing everyone gathered around her bed, the old lady felt slightly displeased. She asked Mrs. Zhao to stay and watch over her and sent Leah and the others out to rest.

Leah looked at the deep night and thought if she drove back, she wouldn’t arrive until after 11 o’clock, and by then she would have to wake Delphine and Nicholas. As she hesitated, the man said in a low voice, "You can sleep in the room you used before tonight. I’ve already asked Mrs. Zhao to make the bed for you." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Leah turned to look at his stern face and noticed a trace of fatigue in his eyes. Since she hadn’t driven over and there weren’t any taxis available in this area, she nodded and went upstairs to the master bedroom to rest.

The last time she came, she was curious about the original owner. Now, knowing this was the place where she once lived, her heart felt complicated.

Leah took a shower, wrapped up her wet hair, and realizing it wasn’t yet her bedtime, she took out a diary she hadn’t looked at from her bag.

The diary was bound in leather. Sitting by the bedside, she turned on the lamp and looked at the man’s sharp handwriting, which was just like him.

The diary seemed to have been started eight years ago, which she calculated as the second year after he lost his wife. The man’s writing was very disorganized, sometimes not even including dates, as if casually noting down some feelings.

"Awake at three in the morning from a nightmare; the storm outside the window still rages on, casting a terrifying stillness upon the world. I lit a charcoal fire and moved it into your room so you wouldn’t feel cold; I know you fear the cold and solitude."

"During our second Chinese New Year’s Eve in the cabin, Grandma sent Casimir over. His wide, dark eyes roamed curiously through the room, then searched for his mother. I told him his mom went far away and forgot the way home. If I am in Hell, Crystal, you must certainly be in Heaven."

"By the time Casimir turned four, he finally understood that there was no mom in the cabin, only old Mr. Shaw with crippled legs. He said, ’Old Shaw, let’s go find mom together.’ There was no road to come by, nor a road to return to. I would have to wait for him to grow up before I could go search for you."

"The fifth year was harder than I imagined; I started to become obsessed with the thought that if I couldn’t find you in the afterlife, where should I look for you?"

Leah continued to flip through the pages; in the six years documented, more than half was filled. Besides some trivial records about Casimir Shaw, it was the man’s gloomy moods, words that even revealed a desire for death, and various dream recaps and fragmented memories.

It seemed as if he were atoning for sins, feeling guilty of heavy crimes, which is why he only ate vegetarian meals over the years, wore burlap clothes, abandoned power and wealth, lived alone, and isolated himself from the world, making her feel inexplicably that although his body was alive, his soul was gradually dying.

Leah rubbed her tired and uncomfortable eyes, thinking this man was truly beyond help, as he never spoke of these matters.

It was already 1 AM after a rough read-through of the diary. Leah couldn’t sleep anymore, so she stuffed the diary back into her bag, stood up, took a deep breath, went to the bathroom to splash water on her face to ease her eye strain, then opened the door and went downstairs.

The night was deep and silent, and the Shaw Mansion was likely asleep; even the old lady’s room was quiet, with no movement.

A dim night light was left on in the living room, casting shadows. Leah walked toward the sofa by the fireplace, and only when she got closer did she hear the man’s slightly hoarse and low voice: "Why aren’t you asleep?"

The man turned on the wall lamp by the fireplace, spilling light over the area and illuminating his tall figure.

Leah was momentarily speechless but softly said, "You’re keeping watch tonight?"

"Yes, Grandma is getting older, and I’m a bit worried." Richard Shaw noticed she had come down in her robe, her eyes still a bit red, and lightly furrowed his brow. He reached for a coat hanging on the side and wrapped it tightly around her, saying in a low voice, "Your voice is not right; I’ll go make you a cup of milk."

In winter, her throat would turn dry and hoarse, especially at night. Leah wanted to say it wasn’t necessary, but the man had already turned to the kitchen.

She lowered her eyes to the small coffee table by the fireplace and saw several opened documents marked with the word "confidential."

Leah closed the files, accidentally knocking a wallet onto the carpet. She picked it up and looked inside. There was no cash or cards, just a few photos, all of her. Some were large, and some were small, like they had been torn from various ID photos, complete with embossing, including one of her in a school uniform.

Leah was somewhat stunned and stuffed the photos back into the wallet, arranging them neatly, just as Richard Shaw came out with a warm cup of milk, saying softly, "Drink the milk and go back to sleep, or you’ll have a headache in the morning."

Leah took the milk, sipped it lightly to soothe her throat, and asked in a low voice, "You carry my photos with you?"

Caught off guard by her question, Richard Shaw’s body tensed, tea-colored eyes glancing at his wallet, his face flushing with awkward heat. Because he had to keep an eye on the old lady tonight, he unconsciously carried her photos when he brought the files down, using them as a habit over the years to rest by looking at her picture, not expecting to be caught.

Richard Shaw was silent for a moment, looking at her stunningly beautiful face so close at hand, his eyes deep and unreadable, without saying a word.

Leah felt inexplicably flustered under his gaze. Remembering the diary she had just read, she asked softly, "If your ex-wife really died, what would you do then?"

Before her words even settled, the man had already reached out to cover her mouth, his brows furrowed with displeasure as he rebuked: "Who curses themselves like that?"

The soft sensation from his palm sent a jolt through him, and then, almost guided by some impulse, he measured her small face with his hand – truly no bigger than his palm.

His rough fingers without thinking pressed against her lips, his voice hoarse, "In the future, don’t say such nonsense anymore."

If she had truly died, he likely would continue to barely survive until Casimir grew up, until Grandma passed away, until he could no longer endure, and then he would naturally pass away.

Not understanding deep affection back then, and not understanding love now, all he knew was that she was a part of him he could not lose.