Chapter 2

When the first military medical vehicle burst into the estate, Richard was coming back from the garage.

Maybe he'd forgotten something, or maybe something came up with Anna that made him turn back.

Either way, he stood there in the glare of the headlights, his suit still covered in dog hair. He glanced up at the helicopters overhead and actually sneered, a cold laugh escaping him.

"Charlotte, you really had to bring out the big guns for your little drama?" Richard sneered.

I didn't respond and carried my son over to the medical vehicle.

He was barely conscious, his head drooping against my shoulder.

Blood was running down behind his ear, each drop staining my skirt.

The military doctor came rushing over, and the moment he saw the wound, his expression darkened. "Quick, get the stretcher."

The head bodyguard moved to block their way. "Without Mr. Quinn's permission, no outsiders allowed—"

Before he could finish, the searchlight snapped right onto his face, cutting him off.

He stiffened, and his hand awkwardly pulled back.

It was only then that Richard realized something was off with my right arm. His gaze dropped to my limp hand, and he frowned. "What happened to your hand?"

I looked up at him.

My eyes were so steady that I almost surprised myself. "You broke it."

Richard paused, looking like he was about to say something, when his phone suddenly rang.

He glanced at the caller ID, and his tone immediately dropped, gentle and reassuring. "Anna, don't be scared. I'll be there soon. Has the vet arrived yet?"

I stood there in silence, not wanting to waste another word.

The military doctor had already laid my son on the stretcher, quickly checking his pupils and breathing.

The accompanying doctor turned to me urgently, "Who's the legal guardian here? The kid might have a brain hemorrhage. We need to get him to the hospital right now. I'll have them open a priority route on the way."

"I am," I replied.

"You need to get that fracture looked at, too. Get in the ambulance," the doctor said.

I followed them into the ambulance. As the door was about to close, Richard finally took a couple of steps closer.

"Charlotte, are you done with your drama tonight? Anna's already shaken up. How much more do you want to turn this into a big deal?" Richard snapped.

I looked at him, and suddenly, the last bit of warmth inside me disappeared.

He saw our son bleeding, saw my broken arm, and all he cared about was Anna being upset.

The ambulance started up, and the doors slammed shut.

The bright white lights inside made everyone look pale and tense.

The doctor hooked my son up to oxygen, pressed his fingers to his pulse, speaking quickly. "His blood pressure's dropping fast. Get the OR ready. We need to prep for a craniotomy.

"Ma'am, you need to sign the emergency consent form right now."

When the form was handed to me, my left hand was shaking.

I always felt like those emergency consent forms were something far removed from my life, especially from a six-year-old child.

But now, it was right in front of me, the risks spelled out in stark black and white.

I picked up the pen and signed my name in the signature box.

Since I was using my left hand, my signature came out all crooked, and the pen left a long line across the paper.

Outside the window, Richard took a few steps after the ambulance.

For a second, I thought he was finally scared.

But he wasn't chasing after us. He stopped at the door and barked at the driver, "Get that dog to Anna's place. Send the best vet over, too. Don't let anything else happen to it."

I closed my eyes and leaned against the side of the ambulance, not saying a word.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

William replied: [Save him first. I'll settle the score.]

I stared at those words, my fingers tightening around my phone, and at last, I couldn't hold back the tears. They finally slipped down my cheeks.

But I didn't make a sound. I buried my face into the edge of my son's blanket.

Breathing in that faint scent of disinfectant, I gritted my teeth, repeating to myself again and again to stay strong.

My son was still not out of danger. I couldn't fall apart yet.

The hospital was already on alert.

When the ambulance pulled up, the ER and neurosurgery teams were already standing by.

My son was rushed straight into the operating room, while a nurse guided me to another area for examination.

When the X-ray results came in, they showed my right arm had a comminuted fracture. It needed to be stabilized immediately.

As the nurse snipped open my sleeve, her eyes were misty with tears. "Who could be so ruthless?"

I didn't answer.

The doctor quickly stabilized my arm and said surgery should be done as soon as possible. I nodded, but the only thing I cared about was, "How's my son?"

"He's still in critical care," the doctor said.

I sat outside the operating room for a full seven hours.

The nurse came by twice, asking if I wanted to have my arm looked at first, but I shook my head both times.

Later, they quickly put my arm in a cast and set it in a sling.

I barely felt the pain anymore, or maybe it was that the ache in my heart was so much worse.

*****

At four in the morning, someone from the Quinn Estate finally showed up at the hospital.

It was the Quinn family's butler.

He stood before me, careful and hesitant, and handed me a card. "Mrs. Quinn, Mr. Quinn said the family will take care of all the medical expenses for you and your son, so you can focus on getting better."

I shoved the card right back at him. "Get lost."

The butler hesitated, looking awkward. "Mrs. Quinn, Mr. Quinn is with Ms. Lynn at the moment. Once things are stable over there, he'll come to see the boy."

I looked at him and gave a cold laugh. "Tell Richard he'd better pray to God my son comes out of this okay."

The butler didn't dare say another word. He lowered his head and walked away.

By the time the sun came up, the lights in the operating room finally went off.

The doctor stepped out, pulled off his mask, and looked utterly drained. "We've managed to pull him back for now, but he's still not out of the woods.

"He'll need to stay in the ICU for observation. He can't take any more shocks right now, so the family needs to brace for a long road ahead."

I nodded, wanting to thank the doctor, but my throat was so tight that I couldn't get the words out.

When my son was wheeled out, his head was swathed in bandages, his face very pale.

I followed his hospital bed all the way to the ICU, only stopping once he was inside.

The moment the glass doors closed, I pressed my forehead against the cold window, frozen in place for what felt like forever.

Just then, my assistant handed me a tablet. "Ms. Goodwin, there's trouble online."