"Ha! Right? Can you believe it? The doctor was so confused he mixed up your chart with the patient next door. Scared her half to death!" Emma Johnson couldn't stop giggling.
Emilia Clark beamed back. "Exactly! Good thing I noticed, or else..."
Their laughter filled the room, light and carefree.
Elijah Clark, still in his white coat, was about to push the door open with a chart in hand when the sound caught his attention. He looked up and saw Emma through the small window on the door.
She looked so lively now, her laughter as clear and sweet as he remembered. She hadn't changed a bit.
"Hey, what's so funny? Share the joke."
Emma looked up and saw Elijah. "Dr. Clark! You're here. We were just talking about that absent-minded doctor from before."
She exchanged a look with Emilia, and they both burst out laughing again.
Elijah couldn't help but smile too. "You must be Miss Clark? The one who checked in this morning?" He stood by the bed, glancing at the patient info, then at Emilia.
"Yes, hello. But please, just call me Emilia. Sister Emma and I are old friends, so if you're close with her, you can call me that too." Emilia looked sweet and innocent, her small frame hidden under the white blanket. Her pale hands were dotted with bruises—marks from countless needles.
A blood cancer patient.
Elijah shook his head slightly, feeling a pang of sympathy. Such a young girl, her best years stolen by illness, spent in a hospital room with nothing but cold needles for company.
"Elijah, don't you know you're supposed to bring us breakfast?" Emma teased, pretending to be upset.
Elijah turned, playing along. "You're right, I'm sorry. What would you two ladies like to eat?"
Emilia joined in, her laughter soft and playful. "Well, Sister Emma, I heard the porridge downstairs is pretty good."
"Perfect. The patient can't eat much anyway. Porridge it is. Don't keep us waiting!" Emma waved her hand dismissively.
"Got it!" Elijah gave a mock salute, then turned and walked out.
He paused at the door, looking back through the window. The woman he had loved for years was still the same lively, lovely person she'd always been. Before Liam Williams had visited the hospital today, she was still that woman. Their bond was as strong as ever.
The smile lingered on his lips.
Inside the room, Emma and Emilia kept chatting. Emilia's eyes drifted to the door and met Elijah's gaze. She didn't look away. Instead, she gave him a gentle smile.
Elijah smiled back, then finally headed downstairs to get the porridge.
The elevator descended, and so did his mood. He craved this happiness, but he also feared it. Because the woman he cared about was someone else's wife.
When he stepped out of the hospital, he tightened his white coat around him. Even with the wind, it was still cold. He thought he'd gotten used to being alone by now.
Eating alone. Feeling cold alone. Facing life and death alone. Waiting for the next dawn alone.
His phone buzzed with a message.
Elijah's hand tightened in his pocket. Finally, he relaxed and pulled it out. He saw the message and wasn't surprised. Based on years of experience, William Thompson, that old fox, would never pass up a chance like this.
Especially when it involved the Williams family.
"Tch." Elijah sneered, his finger hovering over the delete button. He confirmed the deletion.
William's plan was obvious. It didn't matter who held the knife. If he wanted to take everything and leave no trace, he'd have to see how the old fox played his cards.
Of course, the best seat was in the front row.
Elijah slid the phone back into his pocket, a faint smile on his lips, as if nothing had happened.
After confirming that the hit-and-run driver who had turned himself in was completely dead, Liam Williams turned to Christopher Martin. "Send Isabella Miller to the hospital."
He paused, thinking. How did Isabella know the driver was from the transportation department? He remembered that Isabella and Emma weren't exactly close.
Finally, he added, "Have someone watch Isabella. And send the body to the forensic doctor secretly. I need the most detailed autopsy report."
Someone was behind this.
His phone rang, cutting off his thoughts. He looked at the caller ID and hesitated for a few seconds before answering.
It was Emma's mother, Sophia Johnson. "Liam, are you at the hospital? The roads are blocked, so I can't make it. Please buy some food for Emma. Don't let her go hungry."
Liam's face stiffened. After a long pause, he replied flatly, "Okay."
He hung up and sat in the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, he could see Isabella's faint figure in the back. He looked away in disgust and lit a cigarette. "Replace the leather seats in the back tonight."
Christopher answered quietly, "Yes, sir."
It seemed the boss didn't want that disgusting woman contaminating his car.
And it seemed that pretending to be unconscious had its perks—she'd heard things she shouldn't have.
Isabella's hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. She shifted uneasily, then opened her eyes, a sharp glint flashing across her face. She quickly put on a surprised expression.
"Oh, I'm in the car? How did I get here? Where are we going?"
The scenery outside the window flew by. Isabella slowly moved her eyes, pretending to be disoriented, and looked at Liam in the front seat.
She wondered if Liam would still love his dear cousin after finding out about Emma and Noah Taylor. Hmph!
Liam heard her voice and his eyes flickered with irritation and impatience.