Chapter 177 A Heart Full of Needles
The doctor looked at William, his professional instincts kicking in. "Will someone be coming to watch over the patient? She's unconscious. It's dangerous to leave her alone."
In the doctor's mind, if William had brought her here and stayed this long, surely he'd arrange for someone to look after her. But what he got instead was a response cold enough to chill the blood.
"She's tough. She won't die."
Casual. Dismissive. Venom in every word.
If she really died, it would be atonement for Beatrice. If she lived, she'd just keep suffering.
William shoved down the inexplicable panic clawing at his chest, reminding himself over and over — don't let Isabella get under your skin. Don't lose control.
The doctor's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to say more, but William's glacial stare shut him down. That look held no warmth, only an authority and disgust that left no room for argument.
Dylan followed William out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them, sealing off the deathly silence inside.
In the elevator, Dylan had caught the faint tremor in William's voice during that phone call — a hint of concern the man himself would never admit to. After a moment's hesitation, Dylan pulled out his phone and sent Thalia a quick message.
[Ms. Tudor had an incident at the apartment. She's unconscious. Get over there as soon as you can.]
The elevator descended. William's face was dark as a storm cloud. Once they were in the car, he radiated fury, yet his eyes kept drifting toward the apartment building. His knuckles whitened as his fists clenched involuntarily.
A vicious thought coiled through his mind. 'Isabella, you better hang on. If you dare die on me, I'll bulldoze your grandmother's grave. I'll turn that cottage you rebuilt into a damn fish pond.'
Thalia's heart lurched when she saw the message. She immediately called Isabella — once, twice. No answer.
She didn't waste another second. She drove straight to Sunshine Apartment and pounded on the door, shouting Isabella's name. Nothing but silence answered her.
Left with no choice, she tracked down the building manager and explained the emergency. Only then was she able to get the door open.
The moment she stepped inside, the cold hit her like a slap.
Isabella lay on the bed, her face a sickly blue-gray, her limbs stiff and frozen. She was completely unresponsive. Thalia's hands shook as she fumbled for her phone and dialed 911.
The ambulance sirens tore through the quiet night, red and blue lights flashing in violent rhythm, shattering the peace around Sunshine Apartment.
In the ambulance, Thalia gripped Isabella's ice-cold hand, pressing it between her palms, her fingers trembling uncontrollably.
"Isabella, hang on. We're almost at the hospital. You have to hang on…"
She didn't want to think about what would've happened if she'd arrived even a few minutes later. This broken girl might have slipped away without a sound.
The lights in the ER were blindingly bright. Thalia stared at the diagnosis sheet in her hands, trembling. Severe hypothermia with mild shock.
The doctor's voice was grave. "Another half hour and even if we'd saved her, there would've been permanent damage to her heart, lungs, and nervous system."
A chill ran down Thalia's spine. Fury and heartbreak surged through her in equal measure. She clenched her jaw and fired off a message to Dylan, every word seething with barely restrained rage.
Thalia: [Has William lost his mind? Isabella almost died. What the hell is he trying to do?!]
Dylan sat in the passenger seat, his eyes flicking to William's rigid profile in the rearview mirror. He typed back quickly.
Dylan: [How is Ms. Tudor now?]
Thalia: [How do you think? She's in the ER! He could see she was hypothermic. Her whole body was cold as the grave. Does he hate her so much he doesn't even care if she dies? If he hates her that much, why not just divorce her and let her go!]
Dylan stared at the screen, silent for a long moment. The twisted mess between these two was beyond anyone's ability to untangle.
All he could say was: [Please look after her.]
Thalia: [I don't need you to tell me that. I just hope Isabella gets away from him for good.]
Dylan pocketed his phone. The air in the car was suffocating. William leaned back against the seat, then suddenly spoke, his voice sharp as a blade. "Who were you texting just now? You looked awfully secretive about it."
After more than a decade together, Dylan knew William didn't miss a thing.
Dylan's chest tightened. He steeled himself and turned around. "Mr. Spencer, there's something I need to tell you."
"What, did you do something behind my back?" William's tone dripped with mockery.
"I wouldn't dare." Dylan kept his voice low. "When we left the apartment, I was worried Ms. Tudor might cause more trouble for you, so I asked Ms. Wesley to check on her."
He didn't dare admit he felt sorry for Isabella. "Causing trouble" was the only excuse that would fly.
William's expression was unreadable. Impossible to tell if he was angry or indifferent. "And?"
"Ms. Wesley says… Ms. Tudor was just rushed into emergency care. They diagnosed severe hypothermia with mild shock. The doctor said if she'd been found half an hour later, she would've had permanent damage."
"Emergency care?"
The words scraped out of William's throat, the end of the sentence tightening with a panic he didn't even recognize in himself.
His hand curled into a fist at his side, nails digging white crescents into his palm. A sharp, suffocating ache flooded his chest — tight and bitter, twisting his insides into knots.
But his face remained a mask of indifference. He let out a cold laugh. "Guess she's lucky. There's always someone ready to play the hero."
Dylan didn't dare respond. He knew better than anyone — William cared, but he'd rather use the cruelest words and the coldest distance to push Isabella away. And in doing so, he trapped himself in his own hatred.
William turned to stare out the window. The cityscape blurred past, mirroring the chaos in his head.
He kept telling himself — Isabella was manipulative. She'd caused her own sister's death. If she died, good. It would save Juniper from more harm. It would save him the headache.
But his mind wouldn't stop replaying the image of her in that bathroom — her ghostly pale face, her frozen skin, her shallow breathing.
"Permanent damage." "Half an hour." "Emergency care."
The words stabbed into him like needles, one after another, until his chest felt so tight he could barely breathe.
He didn't realize that this spiraling panic had nothing to do with Beatrice. It was all because of Isabella — the woman he kept shoving deeper into the abyss.
Inside the hospital room, Isabella remained unconscious for two full days before her eyes finally fluttered open. Through the haze, she saw Thalia sitting beside the bed, her eyes bloodshot, her face haggard with exhaustion.
"Isabella, you're awake! Thank God. How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" Thalia leaned forward, her voice thick with relief and emotion.
Isabella blinked weakly. She felt hollowed out, like every ounce of strength had been drained from her body. Even breathing felt heavy. Speaking was out of the question. This wasn't ordinary fatigue — it was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones, the kind that made it impossible to keep going.
Sunlight streamed through the window, harsh and bright, but it felt like it was shining through thick glass. It would never reach the darkness inside her.
She knew, with absolute certainty, that William wouldn't come.
Not now. Not ever.