Chapter 2

At St. Mercy Hospital's emergency center, Lisa slumped onto a bench, shaking as she cried uncontrollably.

The red light above the operating room was on, with "Resuscitation in Progress" blazing so brightly. John stood at the end of the hallway, his back to everyone, his shoulders trembling. Nobody could tell if he was crying or smoking.

Several Carter family relatives who had rushed over after hearing the news were gathered in the hallway. Some were whispering, some were sighing, but none of them actually approached Lisa to offer any comfort.

A doctor in a white coat stepped out of the operating room, holding some paperwork.

"Are you Caroline's family?" the doctor said.

Lisa shot to her feet, her legs buckling beneath her as she nearly collapsed. "I'm her mother. How is my daughter?"

The doctor's face was grim. "The patient has a congenital heart condition, severe hypoglycemia, and a concussion from the head injury. Her heart still hasn't restarted.

"We're doing everything we can, but... honestly, it's not looking good. This is a critical condition notice. We need a family member to sign it."

Lisa took the paper, her hands trembling so badly she could barely hold on.

She stared at the wall of medical terms. Every word stabbed at her heart. She'd only gotten her daughter back; she hadn't even had the chance to really see her face, to buy her something new, or to apologize.

"She won't die," John came over and snatched the paper, signing it with a defiant gesture, as if daring fate itself. "She's a Carter. She won't go down that easily."

The doctor took the paper, looking like he wanted to say something, but in the end nodded. Then he turned and went back into the operating room.

The red light stayed on.

The hallway was eerily quiet, broken only by Lisa's intermittent sobs. Time crawled by, every second stretching into eternity. John chain-smoked, the ashtray filling up with cigarette butts.

An hour and a half later, the red light above the operating room went out.

The door swung open and the doctor stepped out. His face, once tense, now looked tired, but a bit of relief could be seen.

"We managed to bring her back, but she's not out of the woods yet. She'll need to stay in the ICU for at least 48 hours. Her body is really weak. She's malnourished, anemic, and her heart is failing. Honestly, it's amazing she's survived this long," the doctor said.

When Lisa heard that, her legs buckled and she dropped to her knees.

John steadied her, but stayed silent. His lips quivered, his eyes rimmed with red, but he couldn't get a word out.

When Caroline was wheeled out of the operating room, Lisa almost couldn't recognize her own daughter.

She was so thin, lying there on the hospital bed like a leaf that could be blown away by the slightest breeze. Her face was pale as paper, her lips an ashen gray, and her wrists looked so fragile.

Her head was wrapped in bandages, and the back of her head had four stitches. Electrodes for the heart monitor were stuck to her neck, an IV was hooked up to her arm, and an oxygen tube was in her nose.

The monitor beeped steadily, showing her heart rate and oxygen levels. It was low and terrifying.

"Caroline..." Lisa took her hand, which was cold as ice, no warmth at all. "Mom's here. I'm right here with you."

Caroline didn't respond. Her eyelashes fluttered a little, like she was lost in a dream that wouldn't end.

The ICU doors closed on Lisa.

Visiting hours were strictly limited. Only one person at a time, and each visit lasted no more than fifteen minutes.

John urged Lisa to go home and get some rest, saying he'd stay and keep watch, but she refused to leave no matter what. In the end, both of them stayed on the bench outside the ICU, not getting a wink of sleep all night.

The next morning, Alex rushed back from out of town.

Alex was 26 and was the vice president at Carter Holdings. He was young, successful, and strikingly handsome, ranking among the city's most eligible bachelors.

He was famous for staying calm and decisive; no one had ever seen him lose his cool in the business world.

But when he walked into the hospital hallway and saw his mother's swollen, tear-stained eyes and his father's stubbly chin, he stopped in his tracks.

"How's Caroline?" he asked.

Lisa shook her head, fresh tears streaming down her face. "She still hasn't woken up. The doctor said... her body is so weak. Even if she does wake up, she'll need a ton of treatment. maybe for the rest of her life. They said she might even have to get heart surgery."

Alex paused for a moment, then gave his mom a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'll go check on Caroline."

When it was time for visiting hours, Alex put on an isolation gown and headed into the ICU.

Caroline lay in the hospital bed, looking way more petite than Alex expected. He'd read her file. It said she was eighteen, but the girl in front of him looked barely fifteen.

Years of not eating right had stunted her growth, and all that sickness had left her pale and fragile.

Alex stood by the bed, staring down at his sister he'd never met before.

Truth be told, Alex didn't have much of a bond with Caroline. He'd grown up in the Carter family, watching Sophie from her first words to the graceful girl she'd become.

He couldn't erase eighteen years of memories with a DNA report. When his dad said they were bringing Caroline home, he was worried Sophie would get hurt, and that their family might fall apart.

That was why he'd said, "We can bring Caroline back, but Sophie must stay with us."

He thought it was a fair decision. Both girls would stay; neither would be sent away. What could be better than that?

But now, looking at the girl on the hospital bed, barely clinging to life, a strange feeling stirred in his chest. It wasn't guilt or pity. It was more like... unease.

He couldn't shake the sense that something wasn't right.

For example, Sophie had fallen down the stairs and only scraped her elbows and knees. Caroline had fallen down the same stairs and nearly died. That didn't add up, unless the way they fell was completely different.

But he quickly shook off the thought. He'd watched Sophie grow up. She was kind, gentle, and always so thoughtful. There was no way she could ever hurt anyone. He believed Caroline must have slipped. This had nothing to do with Sophie.

Visiting hours were over. Alex stepped out of the ICU, peeled off his isolation gown, and stood in the hallway for a moment.

His phone buzzed. It was a message from Sophie.

Sophie: [Alex, how's Caroline? I'm really worried about her. It's all my fault. If I hadn't moved out of the way, she wouldn't have fallen... Can you apologize to her for me? I swear I didn't mean it.]

Alex read the message, and the last trace of doubt in his mind vanished. He replied with a single word: [Okay.]

He turned to Lisa. "Mom, go home and get some rest. I'll stay here."

Lisa shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere. The first person Caroline sees when she wakes up has to be me."

Alex didn't press her. He found a spot at the far end of the hallway, sat down, pulled out his laptop, and got back to work.

An email from his secretary popped up: [Subject: Detailed Report on Caroline Carter.] He opened it, and his frown only deepened as he skimmed through it.

The report described Caroline's life in the orphanage: constantly bullied by the other kids and never getting enough to eat or wear. She was diagnosed with a heart condition at seven, but the orphanage didn't have the money for surgery, so they kept delaying it.

Her medical records read "surgery recommended as soon as possible", but it was dragged on for eleven years until she was eighteen, until she almost lost her life on the staircase.

Alex closed the email, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

He remembered what Sophie had said to him that morning before he left. "Alex, now that Caroline's back, will you stop caring about me?"

At the time, he thought it was adorable. He ruffled her hair and told her, "Of course not."

But now, thinking back, he realized there was something in her words, something subtle, something he hadn't caught before.