Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Chapter 1180
After a night spent teetering on the edge between life and death, he finally dragged her onto the riverbank. Parisa couldn't
remember how long she'd lingered at death's door-time had lost all meaning down there in the cold, black water. Only when she
felt a warm breath against her lips, someone steadily breathing life back into her, did her heart start beating again. When she
opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the face of a stranger-a man whose features were sharp and handsome, but
marked by years of hardship.
He was holding her, and they were both shaking. There was a kind of world- weariness in his eyes, a sadness he tried to cover
up with a crooked smile as he introduced himself. "Name's Hudson," he said, voice rough but gentle. "Hudson Sheldon."
Parisa was barely conscious-she couldn't think, couldn't process any of it.
But now, looking back, she realized that man was the very one who'd hurt her so deeply all those years ago-the one who'd left
her life in ruins.
Sheldon. Hudson Sheldon.
Whitney could tell her mother was lost in thought. Glancing down, she noticed the crumpled bedsheet where Parisa's hand had

clenched it tight.
Her mother's eyes, usually so calm, now seemed cold, full of emotions swirling beneath the surface.
Worried, Whitney quickly reached out and held Parisa's wrist. "Mom, your pulse is racing. Do you... not want to talk about Dad?
Or maybe... did you recognize him back then? Are you starting to remember anything about him?" She asked quietly, trying to be
as gentle as possible.
Parisa's breath came fast for a moment, but then she managed to compose herself. She didn't want to break down in front of her
daughter-she could see so clearly that Whitney cared about that man, still called him Dad.
But how could she explain? She didn't remember much about Hudson, or what had passed between them.
What she did remember, though, was the pain-the kind of bitterness that seeps into your bones and refuses to leave. If he hadn't
hurt her so badly, she wouldn't still feel this way.
"I don't remember, Whitney. Not really. I don't remember him, but I do remember the hurt..."

Parisa looked at her daughter, her eyes dim and cold, but with a faint glimmer. "Of course, I'm grateful he saved me. And I could
tell he was hurt too. Is he... is he also in the hospital?"
Whitney had planned to steer the conversation back to her father, maybe even encourage them to meet if her mother's mood
seemed right. After all, there was so much her dad could explain.

But now, she hesitated. She didn't want to push, so she answered vaguely, "Dad's at Nelson Hospital too. He broke his left arm
and leg. but his injuries aren't as bad as yours, and he's recovering quickly since, well, he's a tough guy."
"Mom, you don't have to talk about him if you don't want to. We can just drop it," Whitney said softly.
"Whitney, are you upset?" Parisa asked, her gaze sharp-she could see the disappointment in her daughter's eyes.
Parisa wanted so badly to make
things right for Whitney, to do
anything to make her happy. Aftera long, silent struggle, she looked at Whitney's young face and asked quietly, "Do you think... is
there any reason I should see him?"
Whitney was caught off guard. Of course there was.
Yael had told her that, when she wasn't around, her father would wheel himself quietly to the door of her mother's hospital room,
just sitting there, invisible, keeping watch.
Whitney knew her dad was terrified terrified to get too close, to break the spell, to shatter what little hope he had left.
He couldn't bring himself to disturb her. He was haunted by years of regret and guilt.
The truth was, it broke Whitney's heart. So many things were left unsaid between her parents. From what Elaine had revealed,
there'd been so many lies and schemes all those years ago-Holly Walker had teamed up with the Bartels family to ruin her
mother's life.
She and Ludwik had their own misunderstandings and secrets, too.
Maybe her dad had been hiding pain of his own. Maybe there were truths her mother never knew.

Wouldn't it be better, just this once, to sit down and finally talk it all through?