Chapter 97
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Chapter 97
After the transfusion, I was helped to a rest room nearby and told to lie down for a while.
I leaned against the narrow bed, a cotton ball taped to my arm, exhaustion wrapping around me like a heavy blanket.
The door opened a crack. Logan leaned half his body in, holding a takeaway container of hot congee and a cup of warm water. He set them on the bedside cabinet without saying much, just placed the bowl down carefully. Then he stepped back out.
A few minutes later, Grayson came in with a folded thin blanket. He put it at the foot of the bed, opened his mouth, and finally just said, “Put it on. The air conditioning is cold here.” Then he left too.
I sat on the bed and looked at the bowl of congee and the blanket. My eyes stung. I didn’t cry. But my breathing slowed down, and after a while I picked up the bowl, scooped a spoonful, and ate it slowly.
Half an hour later, I got up and walked out of the rest room.
Colton was still sitting on the bench in the corridor, phone in hand. The screen showed an email reply from the investigation department.
He looked up when he heard my footsteps.
I sat down beside him. “Did they find anything?”
Colton handed me the phone.
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The dashcam video screenshot was paused at a frame from the front passenger camera-in the corner, you could just make out someone doing something to the vehicle before the driver got in, then quickly walking away after stopping the car.
The next frame clearly captured the person’s face.
Marcus Kane.
“It was him.” Colton’s voice was level, but I could hear the anger pressed underneath. “He changed his identity, got into the airport ground crew’s outsourced team, and tampered with the car an hour before we arrived. We’ve filed a police report. The investigation department has put him on the wanted list. This time, he has no backup.”
I looked at the face in the screenshot. The corner of Marcus’s mouth was still carrying a faint smile. My stomach turned.
I’d thought this man had disappeared along with Dylan after his downfall. I hadn’t expected him to have been lying in wait waiting for the exact moment when everyone let their guard down.
I tightened my grip on the phone, and then looked up. “This time, we make sure he rots in prison.”
Ryder woke up the next morning, just after dawn.
I was sitting on the long chair outside the ICU, my back against the wall, half-asleep. The corridor was quiet except for the low hum of the ventilation and the occasional soft footstep of a night-shift nurse passing by.
The ICU door opened. Colton stepped out, moving quickly, his voice low but unable to hide the breath of relief in it.
“He’s awake.”
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My eyes opened. I stood up-my knees went soft for a second, but I didn’t pause. I followed Colton into the ward.
Ryder was lying in the bed. His face was several shades paler than usual. A bandage wrapped around his forehead, his left arm was in a cast, and an IV line ran into his right hand. But his eyes were open.
When he saw me standing in the doorway, his gaze stopped.
I walked over and sat in the chair beside the bed. My voice was steadier than I’d expected. “Good that you’re awake.”
Ryder kept looking at my face. Then he turned his head slightly and looked at Colton, who was standing by the door.
Colton brought him up to speed. He covered the brake sabotage, the crash, the surgery, and how I’d flown over to donate blood. He kept it short.
Ryder listened. After he finished, there were several seconds of silence. Then Ryder turned his eyes back to me. He opened his mouth. His voice was hoarse. “You donated the blood?” I nodded.
Ryder’s gaze stayed on my face for a long time. Finally, he said, “My sister is so good…I’m afraid I’ll never be able to repay what I owe you in this lifetime.”
I lowered my eyes. “Don’t say that. You’ve helped me a lot before too.”
Ryder’s lips moved, like he wanted to smile but it pulled at his wounds. In the end, he just curved his mouth very slightly and didn’t say anything
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