Inside Marcos's Cole's room, old antiques and furniture's dating back to the nineteenth century filled the eyes. Some items were even from the BC in which money couldn't hope to buy. And the center of it all was the gigantic bed in which Marcos Cole laid.
His sickness had done damage to his health and looks. His skin was ghostly white, and the wrinkles on his face were sagging like his eye bags. Weeks of staying in the hospital leeched off his health like he just became skin and bones. Evangeline felt like he would break with just one poke. He was far from the powerful and untouchable monarch. Now, he seemed like any other frail old man.
Marcos looked at his grandchildren and lingered more on Evangeline.
"I called you all in here because I had something to announce," he started, tone gruff. Though he had to stop to take in breathes, authority was still thick in his voice.
