All Chapters of Mr. Cripple And Mrs. Deaf : Twist Of Fate: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

James steps into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to the fragile figure of Carol. She’s hunched over in a chair, her hair disheveled and her face pale, clutching Aria so tightly it seems as though she fears the world might rip her daughter away. Two nurses hover nearby, their faces etched with concern, while the doctor stands to the side, flipping through a folder of reports. The air in the room is thick, tense, and suffocating. “What’s going on?” James demands, his tone firm yet tinged with worry. His eyes dart between Carol and the doctor. “Damien is on his way back. He told me to check on you two.” Carol doesn’t respond. Her body trembles visibly, silent tears streaming down her face. She clutches Aria even tighter, her lips trembling as she stares into the distance. James crouches in front of her, lowering his voice as he tries to get through to her. “Carol, please,” he says, his tone softer now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” But Carol remains silent, her anguish spilling ou

It’s 4 a.m., and the mansion is suffocating under the weight of tension. For the past two hours, Damien spirals further into desperation. He has reviewed the CCTV footage hundreds of times, stared at his phone, willing it to ring, and interrogated every single staff member under his roof. His once-controlled demeanor is gone, replaced by bloodshot eyes and trembling hands clenched around his phone. The room feels oppressive, charged with his frustration and fear. James walks in quietly, his expression tense as he takes in the sight of Damien, sitting hunched on the sofa. The phone is practically fused to his hand, his knuckles pale from gripping it too tightly. “Damien,” James starts, careful to keep his voice steady, “I’ve investigated everyone. Even the hidden backup cameras didn’t catch anything suspicious.” Damien doesn’t look up. His voice comes low, gravelly. “Where is that nanny?” James hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Carol gave her a paid vacation. She left yesterday

Damien’s car roars down the city streets, weaving through traffic with a sense of urgency that matches the storm brewing in his chest. His heart races, a pounding rhythm that drowns out the hum of the engine. The location James sent—an unassuming bar tucked away on a dimly lit corner—has his gut twisting. He slows only slightly as he nears the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the parking lot for any sign of Carol or the men who took her. Nothing. The frustration gnaws at him, a vicious beast clawing its way through his mind. His knuckles ache from gripping the steering wheel too tightly. "Where are you?" he mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained. The streets blur past him, neon signs flickering in the early morning. His phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with James’s name. Damien swipes it up, his voice cutting through the line. “Did you find anything else?” “No,” James replies, his tone taut with regret. “But I’ve got the cops en route. They’ll be there so

Damien sits slumped in a stiff hospital chair, his back aching, his eyes fixed on Carol. She lies unconscious on the bed, her face pale under the dim hospital light. The faint beeping of the monitors fills the quiet room, a cruel reminder of her fragility. His hand tightens instinctively around Aria, who sleeps nestled in his arms, her small body warm and still feverish against his chest.The news of Harris facing a lifelong prison sentence barely registers in Damien’s mind. There is no triumph, no satisfaction. Only exhaustion and the heavy weight of guilt pressing on his chest. His daughter’s fever has subsided, and she sleeps peacefully now, but the image of Carol collapsing haunts him. Her seizure had been violent, her body trembling uncontrollably, and the doctor’s explanation of the drugs in her blood still echoes in his head. “It was a long ride, wasn’t it?” he murmurs, brushing his lips against Aria’s forehead. His voice is soft, heavy with emotion. “Dad is sorry. It must’ve

The road stretches endlessly in front of Damien, a shimmering ribbon of asphalt bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. The soft whistle of wind slipping through the slightly open window carries with it a soothing rhythm, brushing against his skin like a gentle caress. His fingers tighten briefly around the steering wheel, his thoughts drifting toward the hospital. Toward Carol. Toward Aria. His chest tightens, a bittersweet ache that somehow feels both painful and grounding. The hospital parking lot is quiet, the dimming sunlight casting long shadows across the concrete. Damien steps out of the car, his movements purposeful but tinged with hesitation. Each step toward the building feels like a triumph, a declaration that he’s still here, still fighting for the life he thought he’d never deserve. When he pushes the door open, the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. Carol is sitting on a chair near the window, her head tilted down, a soft cascade of hair framing he