Chapter 99 No More Holding Back

Chapter 99 No More Holding Back

Terrence's POV

Twenty minutes ago, that useless Maurice suddenly started gasping for air in a corner of the hallway.

He clutched his neck with both hands, mumbling incoherently over and over that it was all his fault, that he failed to protect Isabella. Within moments, his eyes rolled back and he passed out from hyperventilating.

The nurse had to rush him downstairs to a hospital room in a wheelchair.

My phone rang twice and was quickly answered.

"Terrence, any news about Isabella?"

"Still in the emergency room. The doctor hasn't come out yet. How's Maurice?"

"He just woke up, but he's completely lost it. He keeps grabbing your dad's hand and crying, calling himself a bastard who couldn't even look after his own girlfriend. The doctor gave him a sedative, but he refuses to close his eyes. Your dad and I are staying here with him. We'll let you know the second there's news about Isabella."

"Got it."

"Terrence."

Christine suddenly stopped me before hanging up.

"What?"

"Maurice can't handle anything right now. Isabella... I'm counting on you."

I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket.

Counting on me?

Nobody needs to ask. I'm never handing her over to this coward who can't even control his own emotions again.

I pushed open the stairwell door and walked back to the waiting area.

Just then, with a click, the glaring red light above the emergency room finally went out.

The heavy sliding door opened, and a doctor in green scrubs and a mask walked out. He pulled down his mask and let out a long breath.

The few of us practically rushed forward at once.

"Doctor! How's my daughter?!" Daisy grabbed the doctor's sleeve, her voice shaking badly.

I stood behind her parents, hands clenched tight, barely breathing.

"Family members, please stay calm." The doctor looked at us, his tone steady. "The patient's condition has stabilized."

Those words were like a blade, instantly cutting through the chains strangling my chest. I gasped for air, even the breath I drew in felt ice-cold.

"She lost so much blood! She wasn't moving at all!" Milton asked urgently.

"It looked scary, but the wound isn't actually deep." The doctor explained patiently. "The head and face have dense capillaries. Once they rupture, the bleeding looks especially dramatic. We've completed the suturing and stopped the bleeding. The brain CT results show no skull fracture and no risk of paralysis."

"Then why has she been unconscious this whole time?" I couldn't help but ask, my voice hoarse and dry.

The doctor glanced at me. "It's a moderate concussion. The severe impact caused temporary loss of consciousness. Fortunately, she's fully conscious now."

Daisy's legs gave out, and Milton caught her just in time before she collapsed to the floor. "Thank God... thank God..." She covered her face, crying and shaking all over.

"But there's one thing you need to be aware of." The doctor's tone became more serious. "A moderate concussion is not to be taken lightly. She needs at least two weeks of rest. During this time, no strenuous activity whatsoever—no dancing, and no extended periods of concentration. She'll need a follow-up exam after two weeks, and only then can we determine if she can gradually resume training."

Elena frowned but ultimately said nothing.

"Can we see her now?" Milton asked eagerly.

"Yes. But the patient is weak and needs quiet rest. Only one or two visitors at a time, and not for too long." The doctor finished speaking and turned to leave.

"We'll go in first." Milton supported his wife as they hurried into the hospital room.

Only Elena and I were left in the hallway.

I sat back down on the blue plastic bench, feeling all my strength drain away in an instant. I leaned against the backrest, slowly breathing in and out, trying to calm myself.

She's okay.

She's fine.

"Terrence."

Elena's voice sounded beside me.

I opened my eyes and turned to look at her.

This usually proud and strict music professor was now studying me with a complicated expression.

"How you burst into that rehearsal room proves you're not just her boyfriend's big brother." She called me out plainly, no niceties.

I didn't argue, and I wasn't going to keep pretending anymore.

"This fall wasn't Dustin's fault." Elena looked at the snow-white hospital walls, her voice low. "It was a mistake by one of the theater's lighting assistants. That idiot brought his phone into the practice room without silencing it, and right when Dustin was lifting her, the phone rang."

My jaw instantly tightened, my eyes turning completely cold.

"Dustin got distracted by the sudden noise and his movement was half a beat slow. But the moment Isabella fell, he did everything he could to catch her. If he hadn't cushioned her fall in time, she wouldn't have just injured her scalp today—it would most likely have been her cervical spine, and the consequences would have been unthinkable." Elena sighed softly.

I remained silent. I knew that at that height and falling speed, the slightest accident could be fatal.

"Isabella is a rare talent, but she's wound too tight." Elena turned her head, her sharp gaze landing directly on me. "She's too desperate to prove herself, and too afraid of being left behind. She needs someone who truly understands her and protects her, not some boy who just claps from the audience and passes out when something goes wrong."

She even knew about Maurice passing out.

"She needs to come back to rehearsal in two weeks."

Elena stood up and straightened her coat. "Spring Gala won't stop for anyone. If she wants to keep her principal position, she needs someone who can keep her steady."

She paused and looked at me.

"From now on, I'll allow you in the rehearsal room. As long as you don't interfere with practice, you can stay by her side the whole time."

I was stunned for a moment.

Elena said nothing more and turned to leave the emergency hallway in her heels.

I sat on the bench, looking down at my hands.

My palms still had dried blood on them—Isabella's blood.

I closed my eyes. Images flashed through my mind: Maurice breaking down and crying in the hospital room downstairs, and my parents' helpless expressions.

Screw brotherhood.

Screw so-called moral boundaries.

I'd already given Maurice countless chances.

I kept pushing Isabella back to him, and what did I get?

Her shaking alone in an alley, coming home covered in bruises by herself, and now lying in a hospital bed covered in blood!

The next two weeks, everything's going to change.

I won't back down another inch.