Chapter 181: He Lied to You

William seemed shrouded in an invisible shadow, the atmosphere so oppressive it was suffocating.

"You said 'what if.' But what if there's no miracle? Should I really burden her for the rest of her life?"

His voice was low, his eyes full of pain and struggle. "She just turned twenty-eight; she's still so young and so talented. She deserves a wonderful life and future, a bright tomorrow. What right do I have to tie her down because of my own selfishness? It's just not fair to her."

Bruce was speechless for a moment. After a long silence, he slowly spoke, "But you can't keep this from her either. You're already married—she has the right to know the truth and make her own choice. If you love her, you should respect her. Actually, I can tell she really likes you, too. Don't let yourself regret this later. Or rather, can you really accept a life where she's not in yours?"

William didn't respond, just lowered his head. Seeing him like this, Bruce could only pat his shoulder gently before leaving the hospital room.

Meanwhile, Terry brought Ophelia back to her room. Using the excuse of getting water, Terry took the chance to send Vincent a message:

[Ophelia was in a car accident!]

When he returned with the water, only Ophelia was left in the room. She asked Terry to wheel her to see William's attending doctor.

When the doctor talked about William's memory loss, he used a lot of medical terms that left Ophelia completely confused. Simply put, the car accident had caused bleeding in his brain, which was pressing on nerves and causing memory loss. The doctor said this kind of thing could happen.

Ophelia then asked about William's legs. At this, the doctor's expression grew even more serious, though he still used a bunch of medical terms Ophelia couldn't understand. Finally, the doctor concluded, "He'll very likely spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. You need to be mentally prepared for that."

Ophelia returned to her room in a daze, just wanting to be alone. She asked Terry to leave.

In the afternoon, Eleanor came to visit with freshly made soup.

Ophelia held the bowl herself, sipping it slowly.

"Don't you have to work today?" she asked.

Eleanor covered the soup pot to keep it warm for a long time before answering Ophelia's question. "I took the day off. Look at your face—you've gotten so thin. I didn't say anything when you weren't eating while William was unconscious, but now that William's awake, if you still won't eat properly, I'm really going to get angry."

Ophelia nodded, but finally voiced the worry in her heart. "Grandma, is there really no hope for William's legs?"

Though Eleanor wasn't a specialist, she knew something about the situation.

"It's not completely impossible. You know Mike Fields, right? That doctor from the department next to mine—he's an expert in this area. He's seen similar patients before, and some of them did recover. I already talked to him, and he suggests transferring William to our hospital first."

Ophelia's face showed a rare glimmer of hope. But Eleanor quickly added, "But you understand, nothing's certain. He can't guarantee anything—every person's situation is different, and it mainly depends on the patient's own willpower. These things, no one can say for sure."

Afraid Ophelia would get her hopes up too much, Eleanor felt she had to warn her.

"William might really be like this forever. You're still young with your whole future ahead of you. You just got married, and now he doesn't even remember you. Actually, it's not too late to divorce now—you could start over."

As an elder, Eleanor was really thinking of Ophelia, not wanting her to be dragged down for life.

Ophelia firmly grasped Eleanor's hand. "Grandma, if it were me who got hurt today, I believe William would never abandon me either. So please don't say these things anymore—I don't want him to hear them and start overthinking."

Eleanor was silent for a moment, then finally sighed. "Do what you want. I'll pay extra attention to William's case—after all, he's not just your husband, he's also your lifesaver."

Eleanor chatted with Ophelia for a while, then went to find William's attending doctor to discuss the transfer.

Freya quietly walked in and whispered in Ophelia's ear, "Ophelia, William's lying to you. He hasn't lost his memory at all—he's faking it."

It turned out that when Freya went to find Timothy, she happened to overhear their argument. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop—Timothy was just so loud it was impossible not to hear.

That night, William had a dream.

In the dream, he still hadn't been discharged. Ophelia walked in holding divorce papers, arm-in-arm with Benjamin. She threw the papers in his face, then pulled Benjamin straight to city hall, as if she couldn't wait another second.

William was shaking with anger. He wanted to grab Ophelia and ask her what she meant, but his legs were useless. In his desperation, he actually fell out of his wheelchair. Ophelia's face was cold and indifferent, while Benjamin laughed beside her, mocking him as a waste who dared to compete with him for a woman.

William woke up from the dream in anger, irritably running his hands through his hair. Suddenly, a gentle voice reached his ears.

"William, Are you crazy? It's late at night!"

William jumped, immediately realizing that even though the lights were off, he knew it was Ophelia's voice.

Reminded by Ophelia, William didn't dare move recklessly. Ophelia, beside him, seemed to have woken up too. She sat up slightly, turned on the bedside lamp, then naturally nestled into William's arms.

The whole series of movements was smooth and natural, as if she'd been used to this for a long time. William froze, quietly watching Ophelia in his arms.

"Why are you here?"

William asked with feigned disgust, even shifting his body to the side.

Ophelia directly wrapped her arms around his waist, not giving him any chance to escape.

William couldn't help but say loudly, "You woman, have you no shame? Clinging to me during the day, and now you dare to climb into my bed at night—do you have any sense of boundaries at all?"

Ophelia looked at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and said seriously, "We're legally married. When a husband and wife sleep in the same bed, do we need to file a report first? Didn't your good friend tell you that I'm your wife?"

Her gaze was gentle yet firm, as if stating an extremely ordinary fact.