Chapter 764 The Brother’s Shadow

Wendy’s plea lingered in Yunice’s mind long after she walked away.

“He’s in the executive lounge. Every afternoon, he’s there. At least go see for yourself.”

She hadn’t turned back then, but the words burrowed into her thoughts, looping like a curse.

Pain. Guilt.

Was Oscar truly living with those chains around his neck all these years?

At last, blood ties and buried questions tugged her feet toward the top floor. She told herself it was only to confirm Wendy’s story, just one glance–then she would leave for good.

The lounge was hushed, nearly empty. Her eyes found him at once.

Oscar.

He sat by the window in a white shirt, sleeves rolled back, a laptop and coffee before him. But his gaze wasn’t on the screen. It drifted outside, toward the endless sea, his profile worn and weary, far from the polished man she’d glimpsed on the plane.

He must have felt her stare. His head turned slowly.

The moment their eyes met, Oscar froze. Color drained from his face, pupils tightening like he’d seen a ghost.

He jerked upright, knocking over his coffee. The dark liquid spread quickly across the linen tablecloth.

“Ms… Ms. Saunders.” His tongue stumbled over the old name he used to call her. He caught himself, forced a formal correction. The sound was hoarse, raw.

That unguarded panic hit Yunice harder than she expected.

Maybe Wendy hadn’t lied.

A server rushed over to mop the mess.

Oscar drew a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, but the shock lingered in the way he twisted his fingers. “Why are you here? Did Wendy-”

His expression darkened with a flicker of anger.

“So she really did disobey me.”

Yunice stopped a few steps away, her voice flat. “She said you’re suffering. That you feel guilty.”

Her calmness was unreadable, and Oscar couldn’t tell if it was sympathy or scorn. Either way, both feelings belonged to him.

His eyes closed for a beat. When they opened again, regret weighed them down. “Yunice… I’m sorry. I never meant to intrude on your life. Yesterday, seeing your daughter… I slipped, said too much to Wendy. I didn’t expect her to-”

She cut him off, pulling out the chair across from him. For the first time in years, she sat, signaling she would at least hear him out.

“What did you say?”

Oscar blinked, surprised. His gaze searched her face, almost disbelieving. He had thought she’d resolved to keep him a stranger forever.

After a long pause, his mouth curved in a fragile smile. “I told her your daughter reminded me of you when you were little. They say daughters resemble fathers more, but she… she’s so much like you. I still remember–before I went abroad, you were only thirteen or fourteen. Those years are etched deepest in my memory. You and Owen were always together. And me? You were proper and distant with me, always. I used to be jealous… wondering why you’d loop your arms around Owen’s neck, but never mine. You clung to everyone–except me.”

Yunice’s lips quirked faintly. “Because you always had that bookish scowl, hiding behind glasses. Any noise near you, and you’d lift your head, push your glasses up, and snap ‘Quiet.’ To us, you weren’t a brother–you were a stern teacher with a ruler in hand.”

Her voice faltered when she spoke Owen’s name.

Oscar’s face fell too. His fingers clenched tight on the fabric of his trousers, eyes sinking with grief.

Neither of them had said Owen’s name in years.

Three years ago, he had died in prison.

The liver cancer had already hollowed him out, though the transplant with Lily’s organ had bought him time. He could have lived longer.

But the guards had told Yunice his spirit had withered. He spent days hunched in corners, silent, pressed flat by despair.

The night he passed, he curled up in his bunk and slipped away quietly, leaving no words behind.

By morning, his body had gone cold. They found him only when he failed to rise for roll call.

Yunice had received the news between surgeries. She canceled three operations that day, and sat alone in her office, staring at nothing until nightfall.