221 Chapter 221: She Chose To Give Up Life For Love

She chose to give up life for love.

She chose to die, to accept fate, the same fate as her previous life so that he could live.

And she had no regrets.

Spencer immediately grabbed her hand back tighter. His heart was in so much pain. He snapped, "You've promised me that you will live this life with me. Don't you remember? If you choose to die, I will jump right after you."

"Spencer..." Nathalia's heart ached. "My silly Spencer...you have to live, please..." tears ran down her cheeks. She was pleading.

"How can I live without you? Don't give up. Do you hear me? Don't give up." Tears filled Spencer's eyes.

Nathalia took a look down at the bottomless distance to the street lights, then up at Spencer, who was in tears, and she didn't know what was a better choice anymore.

Nancy kept punching, pushing, and even biting Spencer like a crazy wild animal. The only thought in her head was that her son would be the heir, the Davidson Group owner, as long as Spencer was dead. My son will inherit everything! I'm doing this for my son!

Spencer couldn't use his hands to fight back, still struggling to pull Nathalia up, and he was barely keeping himself balanced.

Anne suddenly hit Spencer on his head with the bat, and the sudden intense pain shocked through his body. Subconsciously, he swung his leg and accidentally kicked Nancy at her stomach. In pain, Nancy staggered and somehow slipped on something on the floor and fell over the railing.

"Ah, ah, ah," her miserable scream echoed in the air, piercing the silence of the night.

It was just then when someone pushed the door open, and in came a group of people. "Mr. Spencer Davidson is here. Come! Quick!"

"Spencer! Mum! No!!!" Matt arrived with the group; he quickly ran to the railing.

He saw his mother flying over the railing into the dark. It was too late. He couldn't save her.

The terrified look in his mother's eyes stabbed his heart like thousands of needles. He froze. He couldn't believe what he saw. I must be dreaming. This is a nightmare. I will wake up, and it will be fine again. Mum didn't fall! No. Mum didn't fall!

The bodyguards quickly came to their rescue. After they pulled Nathalia up, she had to sit down on the floor, unable to move as if she had been paralyzed. Her face was pale, and her body was shaking. She could never forget the feeling of such intimacy with death.

Spencer kneed down beside Nathalia, holding her delicate body in his arms. Seeing her bruised and swollen face, his heart hurt. "Babe, you are safe now. I'm here, babe."

She has been through too much. There is always someone there trying to hurt her. Why? Why is life treating her this way?

Protected in the familiar warmth of his body, Nathalia slowly regained consciousness, her body temperature picking up, her heartbeat returning normally.

Have I passed the test? Have I survived? Is this real? Am I still alive? She heard all these questions in her head. What had happened was still just starting to sink in.

Dong. Dong. Dong... a clock was striking in the distance. It announced midnight, the end of the 15th day. A new day had begun.

One of the bodyguards dragged Anne over and dropped her onto the floor in front of Spencer. He asked timidly, "Mr. Spencer Davidson, what would you like us to do with this woman?"

Anne had been beaten to half-dead, her face all swollen and hardly recognizable. Spencer glared at Anne, remembering that Anne hit him hard on his head with a bat and was hurting terribly. "Break both her hands, slice her face and sell her to the Middle East as a prostitute," Spencer said icily.

"No!" Anne exclaimed, terribly frightened, "No, please just kill me, just kill me..."

Spencer glanced at her with a sneer, "Now, you want to die? It doesn't happen that easy. You will live begging to be dead, feeling tortured and helpless."

Anne cried out loud, begging, pleading, till the bodyguard knocked her out.

Spencer helped lift Nathalia up, stroking her, checking if she was alright, regretting that he could not have protected her better and, at the same time, feeling lucky that she was alive.

Seeing her swollen cheeks, the tears, and fear in her eyes, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart. Just as he was to stroke her head and said something, he saw everything go blank, and his head just dropped on Nathalia's shoulder. "Spencer?! Spencer!" Nathalia screamed. "Spencer, wake up!"

Nathalia put her hand around his head. Her hand felt something warm and moist. It was blood. The sight of it terrified her. It felt like some monster had just ripped her heart apart. "Spencer, Spencer, wake up! Wake up! Ahhh." She cried and sobbed and shouted, "Please don't leave me. Spencer, I can't live without you!"

A sudden fear possessed her. Is he dying? I'm the one to die, not him. Is fate taking his life in place of mine? No! I would rather be dead myself.

She suddenly lost all her strength and fainted, yet with her hands still holding Spencer tight. When she regained consciousness, she found herself seated on a bench outside the emergency room. The bodyguards were talking to her, yet she seemed oblivious, giving no response at all.

Mrs. Davidson came running in, exclaiming, "Spencer, where's Spencer? How is he?"

Nathalia sat, staring at the door of the emergency room. She felt a fearful shiver through her body. It was mid-summer, yet it felt so cold.

Madly anxious, Mrs. Davidson grabbed Nathalia's shoulders and asked, "Tell me! How's Spencer?" shaking her. Nathalia gave no response.

The bodyguards couldn't help interfering, "Mrs. Davidson, and the doctors are checking Mr. Spencer Davidson, the best doctors, especially the brain specialists..."

Brain specialists?! Mrs. Davidson gasped, her face pale. "Who did it?! Who did this to my son? I'm going to kill him." She exclaimed furiously.

"Who did it?" She pointed at each bodyguard as she questioned. The bodyguards were stressed and worried, as well. "Please, Mrs. Davidson, we are very sorry, but please calm down."

Whenever Miss Nathalia Carter is involved, Mr. Spencer Davidson just forgets about us and takes actions on his own. We wanted to help, but... They thought regretfully.