Chapter 153

Chapter 153
Clara’s POV

Time stopped meaning anything.

Minutes stretched into something shapeless, heavy, suffocating. The clock on the wall ticked forward, but it didn’t feel real. Nothing did. Not the chairs. Not the hallway. Not the sound of Mia whispering something to George that I couldn’t process.
All I could hear was the echo of one thing.

She’s in surgery.

The doors finally opened.

I stood before I realized I had moved.

The doctor stepped out, removing his gloves, his expression already telling me this wasn’t going to be simple. My heart dropped before he even spoke.

“Family?” he asked.

“I am,” I said immediately. My voice didn’t sound like mine.

Mia and George stood behind me, close enough that I could feel them, but not interrupting.
The doctor nodded once, then took a breath like he was choosing his words carefully.

“She sustained multiple traumatic injuries,” he began. “The most critical was internal bleeding, likely from blunt force trauma to the abdomen and thoracic region. We were able to control the hemorrhage, but she lost a significant amount of blood.”

My stomach twisted.

“She also suffered a severe head injury,” he continued. “There was a period of cardiac arrest at the scene.”

Everything inside me went still.

“…her heart stopped?” I asked, barely able to get the words out.

“Yes,” he said. “Emergency responders were able to resuscitate her, but during that time, there was a lack of oxygen to the brain. What we call hypoxic brain injury.”

The words didn’t fully land. They hovered somewhere just out of reach, too clinical, too detached from the reality they carried.

“She’s currently in a coma,” he said.

The world tilted.

“How long?” I asked.

“We don’t know,” he replied honestly. “It could be hours, days, longer. It depends on how her brain recovers.”

I shook my head slightly, like I could physically push the information away. “And when she wakes up?”

He hesitated. That hesitation felt like a blade.

“We don’t know what her neurological function will be,” he said. “There could be cognitive impairment. Memory loss. Motor deficits. In some cases…” he paused, softer now, “patients don’t return to their previous baseline.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Not properly.

My chest tightened until it hurt, like something inside me was collapsing under the weight of it.

No.

“She’s strong,” Mia said from behind me, her voice shaking but firm. “She’ll recover.”

The doctor gave a small, sympathetic nod. “She’s stable for now. That’s the most important thing.”
Stable.

A word that felt meaningless in the face of everything else.

“When can I see her?” I asked.

“In a few minutes,” he said. “They’re transferring her to the ICU.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t feel steady enough to stand.

He gave me one last look, then stepped away.

The moment he left, everything I had been holding together cracked.

I sank back into the chair, my hands coming up to cover my face, but it didn’t stop anything. The tears came fast, uncontrollable, silent at first and then not.

“She can’t.." I tried, but the words broke apart before they formed. “She can’t just..”

Mia dropped beside me, wrapping her arms around me without hesitation. I didn’t resist. I didn’t have anything left to resist with.

“She’s alive,” Mia whispered. “Clara, she’s alive.”

But at what cost?

George stood in front of us, his jaw tight, his eyes glassy but refusing to break. “We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

I wanted to believe that.

I wanted to believe there was something to handle.

But all I could see was her, lying there, unmoving. Machines breathing for her. A version of her I didn’t recognize.

And the worst part, I wasn’t there. I left her.

The thought cut deeper than anything else.

Footsteps echoed again down the hallway.

This time, heavier. More deliberate.

I looked up just as two officers approached.

“Nurse informed us you are with Ms Ayleen” one of them said.

I wiped at my face quickly, forcing myself to sit up straighter. “Yes.”

“We need to ask you a few questions regarding the accident.”

My body went rigid.

“Can it wait?” Mia asked immediately, protective, sharp. “She just left surgery.”

“It won’t take long,” the officer said, his tone firm but not unkind.

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

Mia didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t interrupt again.

The officer glanced at his partner, then back at me. “We’ve spoken to several eyewitnesses at the scene.”
My pulse started climbing again.

“They all reported the same thing,” he continued. “The driver appeared to have no control over the vehicle.”

I felt something cold settle in my stomach.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The car wasn’t responding,” he said. “No braking. No attempt to correct direction. It continued forward until impact.”

My fingers curled into fists.

“We’ve also had a preliminary look at the vehicle,” he added. “There are indications that the braking system may have been tampered with.”

The words hit harder than anything the doctor had said.

Tampered. Not an accident.

Deliberate.

Mia gasped quietly beside me. George swore under his breath.

I didn’t react immediately.

I couldn’t.

Because everything inside me had just shifted.

This wasn’t just fear anymore.

This was intent.

“Do you have any reason to believe someone would want to harm her?” the officer asked carefully.
I thought of Marcus.

Of Katherine.

Of the interview. The question. The threats. The way everything had started aligning too perfectly.
And for the first time since this began, something else rose beneath the fear.

Not panic.

Not guilt.

Something colder.

“Yes,” I said quietly.

My voice didn’t shake this time.

“I do.”