Chapter 153 Lydia, You Really Didn't Recognize Me?

Chapter 153 Lydia, You Really Didn't Recognize Me?
"These bastards have been here for four days. I’m really going to die here.”
Patrick dragged his heavy body ashore, stumbling as he went. 
He collapsed beneath the palm fronds, exhausted.
Rain poured down on him in torrents. 
He’d been in the water so long that the skin on his face had shriveled.
After a long while, he finally regained his composure.
He got to his feet, walked a short distance, and found an abandoned railroad signal station. 
He took shelter from the rain inside the dilapidated building.
Over the past few days, he had suffered a lot.
The people Ethan had sent kept searching.
All Patrick could do was look for opportunities to surface and catch his breath.
The Guinness World Record for the longest breath hold is 24 minutes and 37 seconds.
Bowie could hold his breath for 24 minutes and 38 seconds.
His underwater breath-holding time was only two seconds longer than Bowie’s.
Patrick stripped off his soaked clothes and unfastened the bulletproof vest underneath. 
Three red marks, left by the impact of bullets, were visible on his chest and still stung fiercely.
He grabbed a handful of ash left behind by someone who had roasted sweet potatoes there and pressed it firmly onto the wound on his left arm.
The rock walls on both sides of the river valley were dotted with small iron ore deposits.
Whether it was sunny or raining, this iron seeped into the river.
This made the river murky and reddish, resembling blood.
The color perfectly concealed the blood flowing from his wound.
That day at the black market, he’d put on the bulletproof vest Black Panther gave him.
Patrick muttered to himself, "Lydia, I’m sorry; Daddy will buy you something delicious to make it up to you! Only when Daddy 'plays dead' will the real Chama emerge. Hoping Ethan spreads the word that I’m faking my death."
Patrick quickly dressed his left arm—the bullet was still lodged in the flesh.
After soaking in the river for too long, the wound had become slightly inflamed.
His head felt heavy, and he slumped against the overgrown, abandoned building, his brow furrowed tightly.
Recalling that day —when Ethan had rushed back to the river valley and carried Lydia out of the mud —Patrick muttered under his breath, "Ethan and Lydia—what exactly is their relationship?"
Surely it wasn’t what he was thinking?

A luxury hotel near Queen Elizabeth Hospital.
Lydia had booked a room for three days. 
She and her mother took turns caring for Rose at the hospital.
That morning, she slung her bag over her shoulder, slipped on her white sneakers, and set off for the hospital.
As she passed the front desk, the receptionist called out, "Hello! If you're checking out today, please remember to do so by noon."
Lydia smiled at the receptionist. "I might need to stay for another two days."
The receptionist smiled and reminded her, "If you're extending your stay, please come to the front desk to complete the paperwork by noon."
Lydia nodded and walked over to the front desk.
She opened her bag but suddenly paused.
Over the past two days, she had been as frugal as possible.
But the little cash she had was long gone, and it wasn’t nearly enough to cover another night.
She hesitated, then took out a gold-embossed black card and handed it to the receptionist. “Could you please charge it to my card?”
The receptionist quickly processed her request and handed the card back. "Please keep your valuables safe."
“Thank you.”
Lydia put the card back in her bag.
She also stopped by an ATM at a nearby bank to check her balance. 
The numbers that popped up on the ATM screen startled her.
"2999998740..."
Her balance was over 2.9 billion?
Lydia stood frozen in place and rubbed her eyes—she couldn’t quite believe it.
Had Ethan given her that much spending money?
Fearing she might get mugged, Lydia quickly pulled her card out of the machine, turned around, and headed to the nearby mall. 
She picked out several sets of expensive clothes for her mom and Rose before heading to the hospital to visit Rose.
No sooner had she swiped her card than Boris received a message from the bank president.
He hurried to tell Ethan, "Miss Lydia is in Harbor City, Mr. Edwards."
"She's gone to Harbor City?"
Ethan tossed his cigarette pack onto the table, narrowing his blue eyes.
It was the longing he’d been bottling up these past few days, burning him with agony. "That kitten sure can run. When I catch her, I’m going to make love to her until she can’t take it anymore.”
Boris lowered his head and raised a hand to touch his warm ear. 
Ethan glanced at him and continued, "Any news from Baron and Alice? They took the wolfhound search team to track down Bowie. What’s the situation now?”
Boris’ expression turned serious as he explained, "We've received word from Baron's team. They followed the wolfhound search party all the way to a beach on Seabird Island.
But the area had been specially treated. A large amount of disinfectant had been sprayed on the sand, clearly to eliminate any scent."
Ethan’s eyes narrowed; a cold glint shone in his gaze. "After leaving the black market, Bowie didn't go with James to Mond Manor—he most likely went to meet up with Chama."
Boris agreed, "They wouldn't have washed the sand on that beach with disinfectant for no reason!"
Ethan cracked his neck and let out a cold chuckle. "Looks like that old fox Chama can’t wait any longer."
Rumors of his “death” were spreading everywhere.
How could a long-time international fugitive want to emerge from the shadows?
Could Patrick want to go with the flow and lure Chama out?
Ethan lowered his crossed leg and stood up from the couch. "Boris, have Baron and Alice expand the search area over on Seabird Island. Don’t let even the slightest clue slip by.”
Boris nodded. "Yes."
Ethan took a couple of strides with his long legs and added, "Come with me to Harbor City."

Elizabeth Hospital.
Lydia placed the breakfast and a shopping bag on the nightstand next to the hospital bed. 
She sat in the corner of the room, waiting for the OB-GYN to finish the rounds.
When the doctor emerged, she stood up and asked, "Dr. Donovan, how is Rose recovering?"
Miles Donovan, 21 years old, was born with resources that most people could never hope to attain in several lifetimes.
Even dressed in a doctor’s uniform and wearing a mask, his every movement exuded an aura of natural authority, making it obvious that he was born with an innate sense of nobility.
He was also one of Lydia’s elementary school classmates, but she didn’t recognize him.
He motioned for her to step outside the ward to talk. 
“Rose’s pregnancy is now stable. As long as she stays in good spirits, she’ll be discharged soon.”
Lydia curved the corners of her mouth and nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Donovan.”
She turned to go back into the ward.
Miles took off his mask and called out to her. “Lydia, didn't you recognize me?”