Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 556

"Say it!" Donovan's voice thundered as the image of Giselle's frail, post-illness face seared through his mind. His gut told him exactly what had happened. Rage filled his eyes as he glared at Ethan, the look of someone on the brink of violence.

Zachary rushed forward, prying Donovan's hands off Ethan's collar.

"Uncle Don, are you hallucinating? If you're exhausted, go rest. You're scaring everyone, acting like this!"

Ethan, catching his breath, had already decided—he would not say a word. After all his efforts over the past year, he refused to let it fall apart now.

Time had done its work. Donovan's grief had dulled, and Giselle was completely gone from his world. The two of them had become strangers again. There was no reason to reopen the past.

"Don," Ethan said, ignoring Donovan's earlier violence. He patted Donovan's back in forced calm. "You must be overworked or unwell mentally. I'm worried about you. Let me take you to see a psychologist, okay?"

Donovan shut his eyes, and the details of that photo flashed through his mind again—the thin face, the weary smile.

A wave of pain tore through him, raw and unbearable. He suddenly shoved Ethan's hand away, his bloodshot eyes blazing.

"I want the truth," he shouted. "Did you lie to me? Is Giselle still alive? Where is she? Tell me!"

For someone who usually kept his emotions locked away, his voice now sounded like a wounded animal. The outburst was terrifying.

Dorothea and Grace were frozen in shock, too afraid to speak.

Ethan, however, stayed unnervingly calm. His tone was steady and firm. "Don, you're sick. You need rest—"

"Good lord, he's gone mad! Completely mad!" Grace exclaimed. Her voice trembled, though curiosity still flickered beneath the panic. Even so, she rushed forward with a tissue to help wipe away the blood.

Blood streamed down Donovan's face, tracing a red path along his cheek and neck. His mind was a blur, his vision spinning, but he stood rigid, unmoving.

He didn't feel the pain. He didn't even seem aware of what he'd just done. His gaze was unfocused, distant, lost somewhere between shock and oblivion.

Eventually, they helped him sit down on the couch. Adrian rushed over with a first-aid kit, hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding.

Everyone else was frantic, but Donovan seemed numb to it all. He slumped back into the cushions, eyes blank, staring up at the ceiling like a man hollowed out from the inside.

"I think he's really sick," Dorothea murmured, her eyes reddening with unshed tears. "He was doing so well of late. He'd worked hard, acting normal. How could he suddenly become like this again? Why… Why now?"