When Clara woke up in the middle of the night, it felt like she was lying next to a furnace. Instinctively, she reached over to Ryan and touched his forehead—he was burning up!
"Ryan!" she called out, but he just lay there, lost in a feverish haze. Panic set in as Clara grabbed her phone and dialed the emergency services. The earliest they could arrive was at dawn, so she kept feeding the fire, trying to keep him warm.
Even in his state, Ryan was restless, curling up and mumbling. Once, he opened his eyes just enough to ask, "Who are you?" His confusion tugged at her heart, but she had to stay calm. Using a strip of cloth, she wrapped some snow and gently placed it on his forehead to cool him down.
His face was flushed, and his hands were reaching out aimlessly, almost touching the fire. Clara quickly tied his hands to prevent any accidents. "I'm not dealing with this now. We'll talk when we're back in New York," she said firmly.
Ryan blinked, struggling to focus. "Are you really here for me, or is it all an act? Is it about the Bradford fortune, Clara? Or whatever your real name is?" His words were pained, more than she'd ever seen him before.
Taking a deep breath, Clara continued to care for him, brushing off his feverish ramblings. As the rescue team arrived at six, Ryan kept asking if she truly cared. She let his words float by, knowing it was just the fever talking.
Once they landed in New York, Clara rushed Ryan to the hospital. The doctors were in a frenzy, noting his poor mental state and the high fever likely to last days. Clara spent the afternoon in the hallway, her heart sinking when she asked, "Doctor, will he be okay?"
The doctor glanced at her. "It's hard to say, but he needs family care."
"I am his family. I'll stay with him," she insisted. Just then, Sarah barged in, having somehow heard the news. Her face twisted in shock at the sight of Clara, but she quickly moved to Ryan's side, tears streaming down her face.
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