After I Torched Alive, My Alpha Went crazy novel Chapter 37

The sound of the door opening pulled me from my reverie. I glanced up as Issca stepped into the room, a tray in his hands. The scent of something savory wafted toward me, and I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Issca had been hovering around me ever since Oliver passed, trying to take care of me as if he could somehow fill the void that was left.

"Grace, you shouldn’t be watching this trash," Issca said, his voice gentle but firm as he placed the tray on the coffee table. He was always like this—caring, protective, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept his help completely. Not when the pain was still so raw, so consuming.

"I’m fine," I replied, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes. "You don’t have to worry about me."

Issca sighed, his eyes full of concern. "You need to eat something. You’ve been in and out of the hospital so much lately… I made your favorite soup."

I nodded, but my mind was far away. I couldn’t shake the memories of those endless hospital visits with Oliver—the sterile smell of antiseptics, the beeping machines, the doctors’ grim expressions. We had fought so hard, clung to every shred of hope, but it hadn’t been enough. And now, all I had left were memories.

"I know you’re trying to help," I said quietly, picking up the spoon. "But I need to do this on my own. I need to be strong."

Issca knelt down beside me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "You don’t have to do it alone, Grace. You have people who care about you. Let us help."

I met his gaze, and for a moment, I almost believed that I could lean on him, that I could let someone in. But then the pain would come crashing back, reminding me that no one could truly understand the depth of my loss.

"I appreciate it, Issca," I said, my voice soft but resolute. "But I need to focus on getting better my way."

Issca’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded in understanding. "I’ll be around if you need anything."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in shadows. I stood, brushing dirt from my hands, and made my way back inside. I passed by the living room, where Oliver’s toys were neatly arranged on the shelves, each one holding a memory. I had put them there as soon as I returned from the hospital, unable to pack them away just yet.

The house was quiet, too quiet, and as night fell, the silence became unbearable. I found myself pacing the halls, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn’t escape. The pain, the loss, it was all too much. I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.

I went to my computer, sitting down with a heavy sigh as I began searching for information on the medical organization that had been working on the drug. If only they had worked faster, if only they had found a cure in time. I could feel my wolf urging me to stop, to calm down, but I couldn’t. I needed answers, even if they wouldn’t bring Oliver back.

As I clicked through page after page, something caught my eye. A news article, its headline blaring in bold letters: "Grace: The Woman Behind the Scandal."