Chapter 174

In the doctor's office.

Charles was organizing Angela's latest medical records, getting ready for his routine rounds.

Then the door suddenly burst open.

Charles frowned as Lucas stumbled in.

The man standing before him looked nothing like the polished, arrogant president of The Conway Group.

His face was deathly pale, his eyes red-rimmed, his whole body worn to the bone.

"Mr. Miller, please tell me the truth. What's wrong with Angela?"

"Please, just tell me!"

Lucas's voice was hoarse, filled with desperation.

Charles looked at him, his eyes cold as ice.

"Mr. Conway, that's the patient's private information. I'm not at liberty to share it."

Charles refused him flatly.

Lucas's expression hardened. "Mr. Miller, let me make one thing clear. Angela and I are still married. We are not divorced."

Charles let out a cold laugh. "So what? As long as Angela doesn't want you to know—"

"How do you know she doesn't? Can you speak for her? You're just her doctor. You don't have the right to decide what family members can or can't be told about her condition." Lucas cut him off.

Charles went quiet for a moment.

"Now you're worried, Mr. Conway?"

But he knew Lucas had a point. He couldn't make decisions for Angela.

And with her condition this critical, there was nothing left worth hiding.

The two men faced each other in silence.

Finally, Charles let out a helpless sigh.

"Mr. Conway, since you want to know, I'll be straight with you. Ms. Andrews's leukemia has fully relapsed. Combined with the severe trauma from the hemorrhage and miscarriage, her multiple organs have begun to fail."

Charles watched Lucas's pupils sharpen suddenly, and spoke the cruelest truth with a grave voice:

"Everything we're doing right now is barely keeping her breathing. We're in a race against death. Her life is on a countdown."

A countdown.

Those words exploded in Lucas's mind like a bomb.

Shock, regret, and despair crashed over him like a wave, so overwhelming he couldn't make a single sound.

He didn't even know how he walked out of Charles's office.

Lucas drifted through the hospital hallway like a ghost, his ears ringing.

Everything around him seemed to lose color and sound. All that remained was Charles's words echoing relentlessly in his head: her life is on a countdown.

He made it to the lobby. The sunlight outside was harsh, but it couldn't touch the cold emptiness inside him.

He sat in his car. His phone buzzed.

Lucas numbly pulled it out. Cora's name lit up the screen.

Once, that name might have meant something — the love of his youth. But right now, looking at it, all he felt was disgust.

He had no patience for her.

He didn't want to hear her voice.

He rejected the call, then held down the power button and turned the phone completely off.

He threw it hard against the seat.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and slumped forward, finally letting out the silent, broken sobs he'd been holding back.

That night, Lucas didn't leave.

He kept his car parked under a tree across from the hospital and stayed there the whole night.

As if being close to the building meant being close to her.

The next morning.

Lucas returned to the floor where Angela's room was.

Alan was still standing guard outside the door, dark circles under his eyes, his expression guarded.

Then Alan's phone rang.

He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and frowned.

He looked at the closed door, hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked toward the emergency exit at the end of the hallway.

His figure disappeared around the corner, followed by the muffled sound of his voice.

Lucas's eyes sharpened.

Without a second thought, he moved silently down the hallway.

He pressed down the door handle.

He slipped inside and quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

The room was still.

Only the soft, steady sounds of medical equipment filled the air, weaving together in the empty space, heavy and suffocating.

Lucas held his breath and walked slowly toward the bed.

He looked at Angela lying there. Her face, once delicate and gentle, was now so thin it was barely the size of his palm.

Her once-lustrous hair had turned dry and dull, scattered across the pillow in a mess.

Her long lashes cast tired shadows beneath her eyes.

IV lines ran into her wrists, her ankles, everywhere.

Lucas reached out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her face, but his hand hung in the air and wouldn't come down.

"Angela…"

Lucas slowly sank to his knees in front of the bed, pressing his forehead against the cold bed rail. His shoulders shook violently as silent, desperate sobs tore through him.

In the room, the steady beeping of the heart monitor struck his already shattered nerves, one beat at a time.

Perhaps sensing the grief beside her, the woman in the bed stirred. Her lashes fluttered faintly in the morning light.

Angela forced her eyes open.

She tried to move her fingers but could barely feel them — just a heavy, crushing weakness.

She could hear a man's broken, muffled sobbing near her ear.

Angela slowly turned her head.

When she saw that the man kneeling at her bedside, his face buried against the bed rail, was Lucas —

Her pupils contracted slightly. A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, gone almost instantly.

She didn't cry out. She didn't demand answers. She didn't even change the rhythm of her breathing. She just looked at him quietly, her gaze hollow, with no emotion left to stir.

As if sensing the movement on the bed, Lucas went rigid.

He lifted his head, trembling. His once-handsome face was streaked with dried tears and shadowed with stubble — a wreck of the man he used to be.

When his eyes met Angela's — empty, distant, almost resigned —

The pain hit him so hard he could barely breathe.

"Angela…"

He called her name, his voice shaking.

He wished she would hate him. He wished she would cry and demand answers the way she used to.

"Angela, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

He couldn't hold it back anymore. The guilt and grief broke through him, and tears streamed down his face. He reached out and took her hands in his, holding them tight.

He had never felt so small.

"I'm the one who hurt you. I'm the one who cost us our child. It's all my fault…"

He squeezed his eyes shut in anguish.

"Angela, please let me explain…"

He needed desperately to tear himself open and show her everything inside.

"That time… the time when I lost my memory. I remember it all now."

His voice broke, thick with self-loathing.

Angela's lashes lowered slightly. She still said nothing, just listened in silence.

"I never forgot. The day you left, you didn't even give me a chance to explain. I wanted to tell you — whether I had my memories or not, I would love you the same. I always would."

"No. The truth is, I was a coward. Angela, I was terrible to you. I kept pushing you away, hurting you with coldness. Because I was scared. Scared to admit that I had already fallen in love with you."

"Cora was just something from my past, from when I was young. I thought taking care of her was my responsibility, my habit. But somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you had taken over my heart."