Chapter 11
Memories surged like a tide, and those sweet moments with Jasmine now felt like sharp knives, stabbing every nerve in his body.
He felt a pang of regret, but he couldn’t tell exactly what he regretted, or perhaps he regretted everything.
He felt like a sailor lost in the vast ocean, with no direction, no guidance, left only to be swallowed by the raging waves.
He frantically recalled everything about Jasmine–the hidden chat logs and photos on his phone. Every time he looked at them, tears streamed down uncontrollably.
He had no idea where to find news about her; friends, family–he couldn’t reach a single one.
He could only struggle endlessly in this pain and confusion, never finding a way out.
All he could do was keep calling her over and over.
Ring, ring, ring…
The frustration of no one answering weighed heavily on him.
“Mr. Hudson, a woman suspected to be Ms. Maddox was sent to New York–Presbyterian Hospital after a car accident two days ago.”
He stared at the message his assistant had sent to his phone.
Two days ago? New York–Presbyterian Hospital?
Chapter 11
Zachary felt as if he had been struck by lightning. How could these few short words suddenly seem so unfamiliar? Two days ago, a terminal cancer patient was sent to the hospital after a car accident and needed blood to be saved. What did he say at that time?
“No, my fiancée needs this blood. I’ll have my assistant send 100,000 over. You can get blood from another city to save the patient.”
“Then don’t bother saving her! She’s going to die anyway! I just want my fiancée to be safe!”
The conversation with the nurse kept echoing in his ears.
Zachary was on the verge of collapse. He had personally cut off Jasmine’s chance to live.
No! It can’t be! It can’t be such a coincidence!
He sat alone in the car, the dim streetlights stretching the car’s shadow into a flat shape.
A fierce wind howled past, sweeping up the fallen leaves on the ground, just like the turmoil in his heart.
He lifted his head, gazing at the brightly lit yet utterly unfamiliar city, his eyes empty and full of despair.
He didn’t know which direction to drive in; every road seemed to lead to an abyss, and he wandered at the edge of that abyss, unable to find even a glimmer of hope.
Forcing himself to control his trembling body, he drove the car toward the hospital.
A drive that usually took half an hour took Zachary twice as long today.
Partly because he was afraid to face the truth, and partly because his
shaking hands made it hard to control the car, so he drove slowly whole way.
After arriving at the hospital parking lot and barely stopping the car, his phone rang-Jasmine was calling him. Zachary let out a sigh of relief.
It couldn’t be her in the hospital, otherwise how could she be calling him?
“Jasmine, where have you been?” Zachary’s tone was laced with anger at being played.
“Hello, sir, this is the city police department. It was busy at the station this afternoon, and no one has claimed the phone found at the car accident scene. There’s no password or contacts, but you called many times today, so we’re calling to ask if you know the owner of this phone.”
A car accident?
The phone slipped from his hand, and Zachary hurriedly picked it up from the floor.
“How much did Jasmine pay you to make up this lie…”
Zachary couldn’t finish his sentence.
He hung up and staggered into the hospital, grabbing the first staff member he saw to ask.
“Where is the terminal cancer patient who was brought in after the car accident two days ago?”
By chance, the person Zachary grabbed was the very doctor who had asked him for blood that day. The doctor had no fondness for wealthy people who used money without regard for ordinary lives.
That woman had already been so pitiful that day–if only there had been blood, she could have been saved. His fiancée didn’t even need that much
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Chapter 11
blood, and the things he said that day had left the doctor, whose duty was to save lives, furious.
But he was just a junior doctor, and in front of these rich people, he had no say at all.
Now, what was this rich man trying to do, acting like this?
“That patient died from excessive blood loss that very day. So young and so pitiful, with no one to claim her body. Not even thirty, lying all alone in the hospital morgue…”
The doctor couldn’t help but feel sorrow for every life that slipped away from his hands.
Zachary had no time to care about the doctor’s sarcasm, because his mind was filled with the fear that the car accident victim might be Jasmine. He was barely conscious.
#T
…Where is the morgue?”
The doctor casually called over a nurse to take this CEO–who had spent 100,000 for his fiancée just two days ago–to the morgue. After all, the doctor had work to do and couldn’t waste any more time.
“This way, please.”
Zachary was led into the elevator by the nurse. As the elevator slowly descended to the fourth basement level, his heart sank lower and lower.
The elevator was very quiet. Other than the nurse, he was alone, and in the silence, he could hear his own frantic heartbeat.
Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
