Chapter 113: News

The doctor didn’t say a word about the baby.

He wiped his hand on his apron and looked straight at the head nurse.

"She’s bleeding out internally. The pelvis is cracked, and she’s losing massive amounts of blood into her abdominal cavity.

Forget the fetal monitor! Set up four units of O-negative and call surgery right now! If we don’t get her into an operating room in five minutes, her heart is going to stop for good!"

"Doctor!" a young resident yelled from the foot of the bed, holding up Isabella’s wet leather purse that a paramedic had tossed onto the counter. "Her ID... look at her name."

The chief doctor didn’t even turn his head. "I don’t care if she’s the Queen of England! Get the blood lines hooked up!"

"No, look!" The resident held up the laminated card. "Isabella Kingston. She’s... her family owns the Kingston empire. And her husband is Kian Carter."

A nurse near the door froze, her hands hovering over a tray of silver tools. "The woman from the news? The divorce trial downtown?"

"Oh, God," the nurse whispered, looking down at the pale, blood-stained face under the plastic oxygen mask. "Her husband is at the courthouse right now."

The chief doctor grabbed a scalpel from the tray. "I don’t give a damn who her husband is! She is dying on this table! Move!"

Out in the waiting room, one of Aaron’s security guards was pacing back and forth near the reception desk, his suit jacket soaked with rain, blood drying on his sleeve.

He kept smashing his thumb against his phone screen until finally, the signal icon flickered from red to green.

The call went through.

In the penthouse office of Lotus Automobiles, Aaron’s phone buzzed on the glass desk.

He didn’t wait. He picked it up immediately and pressed it to his ear. "Talk."

"Boss," the guard’s voice came through, trembling, broken up by faint static. "It’s... there was an accident on the bridge. A heavy truck hit the car the miss was riding."

Aaron stood completely still. His face didn’t twist. His eyes didn’t widen. But the hand holding the phone tightened so hard the plastic case squeaked under the pressure.

"Where is she?" Aaron asked, his voice dropping into a register so low and cold it sounded like grinding ice.

"St. Jude’s Hospital," the guard choked out, leaning against the hospital wall. "Niko’s in stable condition, but Miss Kingston... Boss, she’s not good. She stopped breathing on the bridge. They have her in the trauma bay right now. The doctors are saying... they’re saying she might not make it through the hour."

Aaron didn’t speak. He didn’t ask how it happened. He didn’t ask who was driving the truck.

He ended the call, turned on his heel, and walked out of the office. Joe was waiting in the hallway outside.

"Get the car," Aaron said softly.

..

Inside Courtroom 3B, Judge Daniel sat behind the high wooden bench, adjusting his spectacles as he looked down at his desk clock. It was ten thirty-five.

"Mr. Pendleton," the judge said, his voice echoing in the tall, oak-paneled room. "We have waited thirty-five minutes. Neither the petitioner nor her legal counsel has arrived, nor have they contacted the clerk’s office. I am inclined to adjourn these proceedings until—"

"Your Honor, please," Arthur said, standing up from the defense table and pressing his palms flat against the wood. "The storm outside is severe. Flash flooding has delayed traffic across the entire east district. I ask for another twenty minutes."

Beside him, Kian wasn’t listening. He was sitting in his chair, staring blankly at his phone resting on the polished table. His thumb kept twitching. His heart was hammering against his ribs so fast he felt dizzy.

Suddenly, his phone screen lit up.

An incoming call. The caller ID showed a local number—St. Jude’s Private Medical Clinic.

Kian grabbed the phone so fast he nearly knocked over his glass of water. He hit the green button and pressed the receiver against his ear.

"Kian Carter?" a woman’s fast, professional voice asked over the line.

"Yes," Kian breathed out, his voice thin and shaky. "Who is this?"

"Mr. Carter, this is the emergency admissions desk at St. Jude’s Trauma Center. We are calling because you are listed as the primary legal spouse for Isabella Kingston."

Kian’s breath hitched in his chest. "Isabella? Is she there? Why is she at a hospital?"

On the other side of the defense table, Arthur turned his head sharply, his eyes widening as he looked at Kian’s face.

"Mr. Carter, your wife was brought in by emergency services ten minutes ago following a severe vehicle collision on the river bridge," the woman said, her voice grim. "She is currently in critical surgery for severe head trauma and massive internal bleeding. You need to come to the hospital immediately."

The room seemed to spin. The low hum of the courtroom lights grew deafeningly loud. Kian’s hand lost its strength, the phone slipping an inch through his trembling fingers before he caught it against his shoulder.

"Is... is she okay?" Kian choked out, his voice cracking like a child’s. "What about... what about the baby?"

"Sir, I need you to come to the hospital now," the woman repeated softly. "The surgical team is doing everything they can, but her condition is extremely unstable."

The line went dead.

Kian stood up so fast his heavy oak chair slammed backward onto the hard floor with a loud, echoing crack.

Judge Daniel looked up from his papers, frowning. "Mr. Carter?"

Kian didn’t look at the judge. He didn’t look at Arthur. His face was entirely colorless, his grey eyes wide and fixed on the floor as if he were staring into an open grave.

"Kian?" Arthur asked, standing up and reaching out to touch his arm. "Kian, what happened? What did they say?"

Kian backed away from Arthur’s hand, his breathing ragged, shallow, and fast.

He looked down at his own hands—the hands that had signed the papers, the hands that had ordered the distraction at the harbor that morning.

A single word escaped his lips, barely louder than a whisper, choked with a sudden, suffocating wave of pure terror.

"Isabella."