Chapter 145 The Ache of Heartbreak
Ethan collapsed against the stretcher, his small fists clenched so tightly that his nails nearly cut into his palms, tears streaming down his face, "Daddy, I was wrong! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
An hour later, outside the VIP operating room on the top floor of Emerald City's finest private hospital.
Charles's arm and back lacerations had been treated. Though he'd lost considerable blood, fortunately, no major vessels or nerves were damaged. The wounds were deep and required suturing and intensive antibiotic treatment, but his life wasn't in danger.
Charles now lay in his hospital room, pale-faced as he received IV fluids.
In the corridor, Emily stood outside the room, her face drained of all color as she watched through the glass. That man who had always seemed so powerful and invincible now lay motionless on the hospital bed.
From the moment she'd received Kate's heart-stopping phone call to racing through traffic to reach the hospital, her heart felt like it was being crushed and torn by an invisible hand, nearly stopping altogether.
Fear and delayed shock left her body cold.
Wallace held the sobbing Ethan tightly in his arms.
The little boy's small frame shook violently, tears and snot covering his face as his tiny fists clenched tight, constantly whimpering the same refrain, "Grandpa... I hurt Daddy... It's my fault... It's all because of me."
Wallace's weathered hand patted Ethan's thin back with steady, reassuring strokes.
His eyes held depths forged by decades of life's storms, a clarity that had seen through life and death. His voice cut through Ethan's chaotic crying with low, powerful conviction.
"Ethan, your father got hurt protecting you because that's his responsibility as your dad! Your father survived battlefields far more brutal than this—these flesh wounds are nothing!"
Wallace's gaze swept over Jasper and Emma, whose faces were equally pale, his voice carrying a soothing effect. "When I agreed to lend you resources for this plan, I considered every possibility! Protecting their children was nothing for the men of the Windsor family! It's an honor! It's instinct! Your father would never regret it! Even if what stood before you today had been knives or bullets, he would still stand in front of you to protect you!"
He looked down into Ethan's eyes, filled with terror and remorse, his tone taking on the distinctive, almost arrogant confidence of the Windsor family. "We Windsor children make even Satan tremble, because we possess unmatched courage and conviction. If Charles wakes up and sees you like this, he'll definitely mock you!"
This blend of humor and absolute confidence flowed like a warm current into Ethan's frozen, fearful heart.
His wailing gradually subsided into wounded, frightened sniffles. Grandpa was right—Daddy was incredibly strong, and he had awakened. With Grandpa here, with Daddy here, he was safe.
Meanwhile, Jasper stood quietly to the side. His eyes were downcast, long lashes casting faint shadows in his eye sockets, his expression as calm as ever, his small frame standing perfectly straight.
Yet beneath those habitually calm, seemingly emotionless depths, a tempest was raging.
Earlier, while waiting outside the operating room, he'd watched medical staff dispose of bloodied gauze that had cleaned Charles's wounds, sealing them in yellow medical waste bags.
So this man really would risk his life to protect them.
So this was what fatherly love looked like.
So he really could go this far for them.
This realization struck like a burning ember, finally igniting the barriers of "distance" and "testing" that Jasper had built around his heart.
He no longer needed any tests to judge how much Charles valued them. This bloody reality was more convincing than any perfect plan could ever be.
"Who's the patient's family?" a nurse asked the group in the corridor.
"I am." Emily's body moved faster than her mind.
"You can go in to stay with him now. I'll come in shortly to explain the care instructions."
Emily pushed through the door almost immediately.
Looking at the pale man on the bed, his arm and back wrapped in thick bandages, her emotions swirled in chaotic complexity. Gratitude crashed over her like a tidal wave, threatening to drown her.
He had saved her son from the wolves' jaws! This debt was so overwhelming that she could no longer avoid it, could no longer hide behind cold indifference.
The voice in her heart that constantly screamed "don't get close to him" and "don't trust marriage or men" was temporarily silenced by this protection forged in blood and flesh.
Though emotionally she was still hesitant, at least in this moment, she was willing to drop her pretenses and take responsibility for caring for him. It was the only response she could offer.
When Charles awakened, his first sight was Emily keeping vigil by his bedside. That single glance filled his heart with overwhelming satisfaction; the danger and pain he'd endured suddenly seemed worthwhile.
"Emily..." his voice was still hoarse.
"You're awake?" Emily immediately leaned closer, her voice soft and gentle. "How do you feel? Does it hurt badly? Should I call the doctor?"
She naturally reached out to check his forehead temperature.
"No need, with you here, it doesn't hurt anymore." Charles gazed at her face with deep longing, his mouth struggling to curve upward in a smile. He was savoring this feeling of being cared for by her.
Soon, he began pushing his luck.
"I'm thirsty." His voice came out weak and needy.
Emily immediately brought a straw to his lips, carefully helping him sip warm water.
"My shoulder's a bit sore." Charles frowned slightly.
Emily hesitated for a moment, then stood up, using the gentlest possible pressure while carefully avoiding his wounds to massage his uninjured shoulder and arm.
"I'm a little bored." Charles's gaze drifted to a financial magazine on the bedside table.
Emily didn't refuse. She sat quietly beside the bed, opened the magazine, and began reading to him word by word. Her voice was cool and measured, flowing peacefully through the quiet hospital room.
Charles watched this rare moment, a private world for just the two of them without the children's interruptions. His eyes fixed on Emily's full, crimson lips as he said hoarsely, "Emily, the wound really hurts, and my chest feels tight too."