Chapter 168
Chapter 168
Just as the sole of his shoe was about to leave the concrete ground—his collar suddenly tightened around the back of his neck.
The rough fabric dug into his flesh, making it hard to breathe.
A tremendous force came from behind.
Two large hands gripped his collar tightly, and with the sound of tearing fabric—"riiip"—they yanked his body backward with brutal force.
The two crashed hard onto the rooftop's gravel-covered surface.
Matthew's elbow slammed against the concrete edge, leaving it bloodied and mangled, but he felt no pain.
He flipped over and threw a punch at the person blocking him.
"Get off!"
The punch came swift and fierce. John didn't dodge.
He took the hit squarely, his lip splitting instantly as blood flowed out.
But he threw himself forward regardless, using his full body weight to pin down the still-struggling Matthew, his hands gripping Matthew's wrists with all his strength.
"Mr. Moore! Wake up!" John's eyes were bloodshot. "If you're not afraid of death, why are you afraid of living!"
"Let go! I said let go!"
Matthew's eyes were completely bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead.
His strength at this moment was shocking. John was immediately thrown to the ground.
Matthew pushed himself up and stumbled toward the edge again.
A pair of blood-stained hands grabbed his ankles again: "Can you bear to let him become another you!"
These words made Matthew freeze instantly.
Seeing his movements slow down, John scrambled up using both hands and feet, wrapped his arms tightly around Matthew's waist, buried his head in his back, and wailed.
"That child was born less than an hour ago! It's tragic enough that he has already lost his mother. If you jump, he'll have nothing left!"
John pleaded.
"You don't want him to suffer everything you went through as a child, do you? Should Mr. Xavier Moore have to go through those schemes and beatings all over again! Who will he grow up resenting? Will he hate you for abandoning him for Ms. Winters!"
Matthew's entire body began to shake violently.
Another him.
He would grow up surrounded by endless schemes, checking his food for poison every day and sleeping with a knife under his pillow.
Becoming a monster without feelings, with blood on his hands.
The child Elizabeth had sacrificed her life to bring into this world would be forced to live that kind of life.
"I..." Matthew's Adam's apple moved with difficulty. For the first time, confusion appeared in those cold eyes.
He looked at the abyss beneath his feet, but somehow couldn't take that final step.
John felt his hesitation, gritted his teeth hard, and blurted out: "If you insist on dying today, I won't go on living either! I'll jump with you! Then that child will truly have no one! Then those bastards will be free to torment him!"
"You dare!" Matthew whipped around and grabbed John's collar, his eyes so red they seemed ready to drip blood.
At the same time, in the ICU,
Roy sat dejectedly on a bench in the corner of the emergency room, hands covering his face, dried blood filling the gaps between his fingers.
On the defibrillator screen was a flat line, declaring death.
A nurse nearby cleaned up the blood-soaked gauze, tears streaming down her face.
That gentle, kind woman had just given birth, and now she was gone.
Suddenly.
A faint "beep" cut through that flat line.
The nurse's hand trembled, and a basin of bloody water crashed to the floor.
"Beep—beep—"
On the screen, the flat line representing the heartbeat suddenly jumped with a tiny peak.
Then a second peak appeared, followed by a third.
Though the rhythm was slow, it meant her heart was beginning to beat on its own.
Roy shot up from the bench and stared at the monitor, his breath catching in his throat.
"Spontaneous heartbeat restored! Ventricular fibrillation gone!" he roared hoarsely, his voice cracking, "Push another milligram of epinephrine! Now! Hang the plasma! Prepare for intubation!"
The entire room burst into frantic activity.
A vegetative state, postpartum hemorrhage, and multiple organ failure—in medical terms, it was a death sentence.
But against all odds, Elizabeth dragged herself back from death's door through sheer determination alone.
Elizabeth's cracked lips moved slightly.
Those pale eyelids were trembling violently.
Given a second chance at life, she owed Matthew a future, and she owed him a family?
That madman—that man who cherished her so deeply!
If she didn't wake up, he would really die.
"Ms. Winters! Can you hear me! Ms. Winters!" Roy shouted while checking her pupils.
The nurse beside him snapped back to reality, grabbed the blood-stained walkie-talkie from the table, and pressed the talk button with trembling hands.
It was a dedicated channel directly connected to the top-floor study and security system.
The rooftop.
Amid the cold wind, a nurse's tearful voice suddenly came through the walkie-talkie:
"Mr. Moore! John! Are you listening! Ms. Winters... Ms. Winters' heartbeat has returned! She's alive!"
Matthew's hand, gripping John's collar, froze in mid-air.
His mind went blank, filled with a sharp buzzing sound.
Chaotic shouting came through the walkie-talkie: "Blood pressure is rising! Quick, get the hemostatic clamp! Mr. Moore, she's alive!"
John stood stunned for two seconds, then broke into tears and laughter: "Mr. Moore! Did you hear that! Ms. Winters isn't dead! She's not dead!"
Matthew said nothing. He stood frozen in place.
The next second,
Matthew released John, turned around, and sprinted toward the metal door.
He ran so frantically that he missed a step at the stairwell corner and tumbled down a dozen stairs.
John, following behind, was terrified: "Mr. Moore!"
But Matthew felt none of it.
He scrambled to his feet and rushed downstairs like a madman.
Only one thought echoed in his mind.
She's alive.
She's alive!
"Bang!" The ICU door was slammed open by brute force. The guards on duty outside had no time to react before a blood-covered man charged in.
Inside the room, Roy was holding up a bag of blood while several nurses rapidly adjusted the equipment.
Hearing the noise, everyone turned their heads in unison.
Matthew stood some distance from the bed.
His gaze pierced through the layers of medical equipment and locked onto the hospital bed.
The woman on the bed was wearing an oxygen mask.
Her previously deathly pale cheeks now held the faintest trace of color.
Those eyes that had once haunted his dreams were now half open.
Her deep eyes were brimming with tears.
Hearing the door crash, Elizabeth slowly turned her head.
Because of the tube in her neck, even this simple movement made her wince in pain.
Her gaze moved past the white-coated doctors and landed directly on the disheveled man at the door.