Chapter 655
Andrew’s grip on Evelyn’s wrist was firm and urgent, nearly dragging her-off balance and breathless-into the chaos of the ER.
The sharp sting of disinfectant, mixed with the unmistakable tang of blood, hit her all at once, wrapping around her like an icy shroud.
Her gaze was pulled, unrelenting, to the center of the room.
Charles.
The man who used to light up every room with his confidence and charm now lay pale and lifeless against the sterile white pillow. His skin was a ghostly blue-gray, lips cracked and dark, the rise and fall of his chest barely enough to fog the inside of his oxygen mask.
He looked like a shell, all the fire and spirit sucked out, kept tethered to this world only by the relentless, mechanical beeping of monitors—a cold reminder that, for now, life still clung to him.
Evelyn’s eyes drifted down, tracing the raw evidence of his suffering. The collar of his hospital gown gaped, revealing skin crisscrossed with agony: a constellation of pinpricks, each one capped with a tiny, dried bead of blood; fresh stitches oozing faintly at the edges; unnatural swelling beneath the surface, as if his body had turned against itself.
Every scar, every wound, screamed of the brutal experiments he’d endured-all for Charlie. All for their little girl.
A storm of emotion welled up inside her: anger, grief, something dangerously close to pity.
“Ms. Evelyn!”
Andrew’s voice cracked, desperate. “Please just talk to him! Say something- anything! Even if it’s a lie, just let him hear your voice! That’s all he needs. If he hears you, he’ll fight. Please!”
But Evelyn couldn’t speak.
She hated Charles.
Hated him with a fury that never dulled.
From the moment Charlie’s small body went cold in her arms.
From the moment she learned that, directly or not, it was Charles who’d cost their daughter her life. That hatred had frozen inside her, a jagged block of ice wedged deep in her chest, gnawing away in the dark, year after year.
She remembered every time he’d shielded Dahlia, every time he’d made her helpless to seek justice for their daughter.
She had cursed him-truly wished him gone from this world.
And yet…
Her eyes drifted back to his deathly white face. The man she’d once loved beyond reason. The man she’d later wanted to rip apart with her bare hands.
Evelyn’s fists clenched at her sides so tightly her nails dug deep, sharp into her palms, but she didn’t even flinch.
In her mind, she saw Charlie’s sleeping face-pale, peaceful, heartbreakingly sweet.
Charlie was still with her.
Charlie needed her dad.
She remembered how Charlie’s used to shine around him, full
her
welnes simple, boundless love. He of ves
hero. Her whole world.
If-
If Charlie woke up and learned that her beloved dad had died to save her…
Even if that was what Charles owed.
Even if it was the price he should pay as a father.
Even if it was the punishment he deserved.
Charlie was just a child.
How could Evelyn let her carry the weight of “Dad died because of me”?
She couldn’t.
At last, under Andrew’s pleading,
t gaze, Evelyn bent closet
lips near Charles’s ear, and
You reed
the words out, steady
“Charles, you say you owe Charlie so much?”
“You
it
ive. Live-and
atone for her, to make
your quilt. Spend every day
life
making it up to her.”
Dying now would fix nothing. It would only leave Charlie with a burden she’d
never shake: her father, gone because of her.
Evelyn’s voice cut through the fog, razor-sharp.
And as she spoke, Charles heard her. Or maybe just the echo of her words.
Telling him to atone, to live, to make things right.
Something flickered in the battered shell of his body-a stubborn spark.
He couldn’t die.
He hadn’t earned Evelyn and Charlie’s forgiveness.
He hadn’t heard Charlie call him “Dad” again.
He hadn’t told them really told them-how much he loved them.
Beep… beep…
On the cardiac monitor, the flat, faltering line suddenly jerked—a feeble,
miraculous peak.
And then another.
Still faint, still fragile, but fighting-refusing to quit.
“There’s a heartbeat! Adrenaline! Keep his blood pressure steady! Watch his O2!”