Burn Me Once, Burn With Me novel Chapter 338

Bennett stood rooted to the spot, shock slowly creeping across his face.

For a moment, he even doubted whether the man before him was truly Mr. Veyne.

But then Cassian rose to his feet, his voice so cold and detached that Bennett wondered if the drunkenness from just moments ago had been nothing but a mirage. “Let’s go.”

Bennett snapped out of his daze and hurried to follow. Cassian stumbled on the last step of the staircase, nearly losing his balance, but when Bennett instinctively reached out to steady him, Cassian brushed him off with a raised hand.

It wasn’t until Cassian’s tall, solitary figure melted into the darkness that Bennett silently moved forward to open the car door for him.

The moment Cassian slid inside, the car was instantly thick with the smell of alcohol.

Even Bennett, who was no stranger to shielding his boss from more than a few drinks, felt a wave of dizziness.

“Do you think she’ll come back?”

The silence shattered, broken by a hoarse voice.

Bennett’s hands stalled on the steering wheel. He glanced at the rearview mirror.

Cassian was utterly drunk now, his gaze unfocused as it drifted out the window, hollow and alone.

His voice was barely more than a whisper, as insubstantial and fleeting as morning fog—a question that vanished before it could settle.

Bennett couldn’t quite pin down what he felt at that moment.

He’d been at Cassian Veyne’s side for years, witnessing every tangled twist of his relationship with his wife.

From his perspective, an outsider, “feelings” hardly seemed the right word for what passed between them.

Yet, lately, Cassian’s actions had grown stranger and stranger.

Bennett knew about the faint stirrings of emotion toward Mrs. Veyne that had surfaced in his boss, only to be buried again after a company scandal a year ago. Since then, Cassian had seemed calm—until recently, when every move he made was harder to read.

Silence reclaimed the car, broken only by Cassian’s uneven breathing.

***

Bennett had just dropped Cassian off at Northridge Manor when his phone buzzed—a call from Veyne Private Medical Center.

He glanced at the time on the screen. It was well past midnight.

Why would the hospital call at this hour?

Puzzled but alert, he answered immediately.

A nurse’s urgent voice came through the line: “Bennett, Miss Gennifer’s condition has deteriorated rapidly. She needs emergency surgery, but our blood bank doesn’t have her blood type in stock.”

Bennett’s expression hardened.

“How is she right now?”

“She’s already slipped into a coma. Her consciousness is fading, and we need compatible blood as soon as possible.”

The anxiety in the nurse’s voice was unmistakable.

Bennett felt a headache coming on. It was clear he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

“What’s Miss Gennifer’s blood type?”

“AB. We’ve tested several staff members, but she’s showing a strong rejection to all of them. We need a close relative to donate.”

Bennett’s face was grave. “Keep her stable. I’ll handle the blood situation.”

“Yes, sir.”

With that, the call ended. The noise of hurried footsteps and frantic voices echoed through the receiver before it cut out.

The tension was palpable.

Even in her anxiety, Frieda felt a warmth in her chest.

Gennifer was her best friend Violet’s daughter. Years ago, Violet had died in a car accident, sacrificing herself to save her only child. Hanley had brought Gennifer home at the first opportunity, raising her as his own and later officially adopting her into the Grayson family.

Over the years, she and Hanley had cared for Gennifer as if she were their own—perhaps even more dotingly than their biological daughter, Ruby.

Hanley had always spoiled her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay.”

Frieda finally felt the weight in her heart lift, if only a little.

That very night, Hanley boarded the fastest international flight home.

Veyne Private Medical Center.

“Nurse, how is it?”

Hanley’s voice trembled as he looked at the nurse drawing his blood.

The nurse, learning he was a close relative, offered a hopeful smile. “Blood relatives rarely have compatibility issues. Mr. Grayson, your blood should work for the surgery, but we need to wait for the final crossmatch results.”

Hanley was impatient. “What’s there to wait for? My blood will work! Hurry—take as much as you need!”

Meanwhile, Gennifer, eyelids fluttering, was slowly regaining consciousness. Her face was ghostly pale, her body weak.

She saw Hanley volunteering to give her blood, and a jolt of panic shot through her.

No, he can’t donate. If he does…

Ignoring her own frailty, Gennifer struggled to sit up.