“Quiet!” The doctor’s sharp command cut through the anxious chatter, and everyone immediately fell silent. Pulling off his mask, the doctor addressed them in a measured voice: “The patient’s rib was fractured—we’ve already removed the broken piece surgically. Luckily, there was no damage to his internal organs. We’ve managed the internal bleeding caused by the impact. His right leg is broken and has been stabilized with a metal plate. He also has multiple abrasions; nothing too serious. There was a stab wound to his abdomen that had been stitched, but the wound reopened, so we’ve re-stitched it. He suffered a head injury as well, with some internal bleeding. We performed a minimally invasive drainage procedure. He’s still in a critical period—the next forty-eight hours are crucial. If he wakes up, he should recover. If he doesn’t...”
“If he doesn’t wake up, what happens then?”
Phelps, his hands trembling, gripped the doctor’s arm. Timothy was the grandson he was most proud of, the one he’d mentored personally. The thought of losing him was unbearable.
“We’ll need to run further tests to be sure. For now, please step aside. The patient needs to be moved to the intensive care unit.”
The mention of the ICU sent a chill through the room—it sounded grave. Phelps’s knees buckled, and he fainted on the spot.
The Naylor couple and Nola Lawson rushed to his side, helping him away from the chaos.
Sallie didn’t follow. Instead, she fixed Vince with a steely gaze and spoke in a low, urgent voice. “You know what really happened, don’t you?”
Vince pressed his lips together, refusing to answer.
Sallie’s eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed in frustration. “Say something.”
Timothy was her twin brother. There were things on her grandfather’s side of the family she could ignore, but when it came to Timothy, she couldn’t just stand by.
“When Timothy wakes up, you can ask him yourself,” Vince said finally, his tone clipped. “His personal life isn’t mine to discuss.”
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