Chapter 1378


    The name Eleanor sent an electric jolt through Bernard’s long-stagnant heart, igniting a spark in his dim


    eyes.


    “Eleanor’s news?”


    She and the child she carried had sunk to the depths of the sea. What news could there possibly be?


    Yates remained silent, his stare fixed on Bernard with an intensity that spoke volumes.


    The anxious man, seeing no response, felt his temper darken, “Speak up!”


    After a drawn silence, Yates stepped back, sinking into a sofa with the weight of unsaid words. “You


    think Eleanor’s dead, don’t you?”


    Bernard’s eyes flickered with a storm of emotions before settling into a shade of skepticism.


    “If you’re here to y me with some fake information of her survival, just get out.”


    Sophie and Cameron would never let Eleanor off the hook. Who would save her? Who could?


    He didn’t believe it, and Yates, unhurried, gestured to Peterson with a flick of his cigarette-bearing


    fingers, “Show him the video.”


    With understanding, Peterson pulled out his phone, opening a video sent from a photographer at the


    family reunion. He ced it before Bernard’s eyes.


    In the footage, Eleanor stood beneath a pear tree, d in a champagne gown, her gaze lost in the


    crowd. The breeze teased her hem into a delicate dance.


    “This was taken tonight. Timestamped for proof.”


    Bernard was deaf to Yates’ words, his misty eyes locked onto the woman in the video.


    Her face, her features, her expression – unchanged. It couldn’t be a fake. So… she wasn’t dead?


    A red hue crept into Bernard’s eyes that struggled against tears. With each throb of his heart came a


    pang of pain, even his palms ached. His trembling fingers reached out, yearning to touch that face on


    the screen, but hecked the strength, his hand falling helplessly each time.


    All he could do was tear his gaze from the video to look at Peterson, his eyes brimming with a plea for


    truth.


    Peterson, behind his mask, met those reddened eyes, feeling a twinge of guilt but ignoring the


    questioning look. He took away the phone and walked emotionlessly back to Yates’ side.


    Bernard’s desperate eyes followed Peterson, shifting to Yates. It was ironic – his enemy stood before


    him, yet in his powerlessness, he sought their mercy, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll agree to your terms.”


    He didn’t even ask what the terms were. For Eleanor, he would agree to anything. Yates saw it;


    Bernard was hopelessly in love with Eleanor.


    This text is property of N?/velD/rama.Org.


    –


    Yates empathized with Bernard, but they were enemies, and that chip in his brain a catalyst for their


    bitter rift – meant… Yates was determined to pull them apart.


    He addressed Bernard with a measured tone, “Cameron pushed her into the sea, then went back and


    saved her.” Yates’ voice was casual, as if recounting a trivial matter.


    Perhaps it was the calmness that made it hard for Bernard to believe, “How could Cameron possibly


    save her?”


    The very man sent to kill Eleanor… why would he rescue her?


    “Before they fell into the sea, Eleanor revealed to Cameron that she was his biological daughter.”


    So that was it… Eleanor had revealed the secret to save her life, only to be cast into the sea anyway.


    But, regardless, Cameron’s conscience hadn’tpletely faded, and he saved her.


    This reason was believable. Bernard’s spark of life reignited. Like the rebirth of spring, it gave him a


    reason to live. His lips curled slightly, his emotions spilling over in that subtle smile.


    As long as Eleanor lived, the world was beautiful to him. In that instant, he even felt gratitude towards


    Cameron for saving Eleanor.


    All his hatred dissipated with the news of her survival. Because this was the second time a precious


    second chance that made everything all the more precious.


    Bernard lowered his gaze, tears quickly sshing onto his hand. As his emotions quietly released, the


    tension binding Bernard unraveled.


    He rxed against the wall, his once rigid posture softening.


    “The news of Eleanor’s survival is yours. Now, let’s discuss my terms.” Yates’ aged voice fell upon


    Bernard’s ear, prompting him to reel in his emotions.


    “What are your terms?” As he looked up again, his eyes were sharp, frosty.


    Observing the icy Bernard, Yates raised an eyebrow slightly, “Do you want to see her?”


    The question seemed to suggest Eleanor was in the clutches of their organization. Bernard’s heart, just


    settled, lurched again, but he forcedposure, staring at the immovable Yates, “What do you think?”


    Bernard’s icy re mocked Yates’ redundant question. Yates asked knowingly, paving the way for what


    was toe.


    “Tomorrow, I’ll have you released, reinstating your identity as Agent 2-9. Then, I’ll arrange for you and


    Eleanor to meet.”


    The deepening of Bernard’s confusion was palpable, “Why restore my identity?” What was this man


    behind the full-face mask really up to?